


this will all just end in flames

by queencrank



Series: now look at what we've done [1]
Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: (spoiler alert: he did), Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Established Relationship, Fires, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rumours, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, did jack start the fire??? no one knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2018-12-01 07:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queencrank/pseuds/queencrank
Summary: It was like watching a train wreck.A beautiful disaster. Unable to look away, no matter how uncomfortable it made you feel.Or, more appropriately, it was like watching a building burn down to ashes.Because that's what it was.





	1. on the edge of a house fire.

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably??? the most effort i will ever put into anything
> 
> im writing this bc im procrastinating on my original story thank u goodnight  
> i hate myself for writing this much lmao

The smoke is cleansing.

At least, it's supposed to be.  
Or maybe Ralph's just not thinking clearly.  
  
Maybe it's the smoke.  

 

His palm slides in Charlie's sweaty one, but he doesn't complain about the state of his friend. He isn't much better, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and ash. He staggers blindly through the halls, feeling for the walls of the building, trying not to run into them. He fails. Several times. Ralph adjusts his grip and tries to follow the sound of footsteps.  
The smoke is thick. It's hard to see. Hard to breathe. Hard to think.

Up ahead, he hears sighs of relief, gasps for breath, then he staggers into open air, semi-clean air in his lungs, in his hair.

  
It's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

 

Charlie collides with his back, and Ralph guides him away from the door, swaying on his feet. collapsing with relief onto the grass when he's far enough away.  
It's good to feel something other than the stifling air on his face, see something that has _color_.  
He watches the smoke rise into the skies, thick and dark and demeaning, listens to the blaring of the alarm system, the spray of the firemen attempting to gain control of the flames. The violent orange shoots up into the sky among the grey of the smoke, a dance that Ralph can't look away from, even when Charlie falls to the ground beside him, grabs for his arm.

'Simon's not out yet.' It sounds muted, strange, like he's speaking underwater. Which weirds Ralph out - he could hear all the other sounds around him perfectly fine - especially the crackle of the fire. 'Or Peter. Samneric are - there they are.' Ralph wets his lips and watches the smoke rise up slowly. _So calm_. Like his world wasn't crumbling around him.

Charlie says his name. Shakes him. Says it again. Then, he shouts it, and it's like Ralph can breathe again - it's like he's been slammed back into his person. He gasps, and he realizes he's crying.

'Ralph - there he is!' Charlie disappears from his field of vision, and Ralph blearily looks on as he scrambles to his feet, goes over to Simon. The smaller boy has a distant look on his face, and he shakes his head faintly when Charlie asks him something. Ralph's eyes return to the skies. Then, Simon sits by his legs, and rests his hand on his calf.

'I couldn't find Peter.' Ralph thinks back to that evening. Feels a stab of guilt.  _Peter is fine. He's a smart kid._

He looks to Simon, says it aloud, and his friend looks away.

'I know he is. It's just - he isn't answering his phone, either. He always has his phone, if he's out. Mum makes him. What if he's hurt?'

'They're still getting everyone out. Isn't one of his friends on one of the top floors?' Charlie pipes in helpfully. Ralph scoffs despite himself, then closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see Simon's hurt expression.

'What does that mean?' His hand leaves his calf.

'Peter doesn't have friends. He has you.' Again, Ralph thinks back to that evening. He looks off to the side. To the walls. Upon opening his eyes, he finds Jack watching him. Fiddling with that lighter of his. Ralph swallows. Looks to the smoke. Again.  
He wants to go over to Jack, beg him to wrap him up in that embrace that's too comforting for what Jack is under that uniform, behind that pin. He knew Jack would find the right words to ground him again.  
Manipulation was always his specialty. Especially when it came to Ralph.

His attention is snapped to the roof when it caves in, and he watches Simon out of the corner of his eye. He goes as stiff as a board, then Ralph is sitting up, noticing how he rises from the grass. He pulls him back down, pulling him to his chest. Simon lets out a faint whine, and Ralph forces himself to keep his attention on his friend.

'He's fine. He's fine,' He whispers into his hair, and Simon swallows, lurches forwards in his arms as another section of the building goes up in flames.  _If anything happens to Peter, it'd be my fault,_ he realizes faintly, and pushes his face further into Simon's hair, draws him closer.

'Ralph - you need to let me go - I need to go find him. Please.' He sounds strangely calm, and Ralph's heart drops. It's always like this just before one of his panic attacks. _The calm before the storm_.

The calmer he was, the worse the attack would be.

'Ralph. Please.' He can hear it edging into his voice - the caged animal. His nails press into his arm. 'I need to make sure he's okay. I'm his brother, Ralph, _please_.' His last please is more of a sob than anything else, the roaring of the fire growing louder. Ralph pulls Simon closer, refuses to look up at the flames now. _It's my fault._

There are teachers standing behind them, whispering anxiously to one another.

'We couldn't get to the west wing of the North Building.' One says, and another gasps.

'But the third years.' Simon stiffens in his hold, going deadly silent.

'I don't know if any...' The teacher doesn't continue, and someone sobs. Ralph faintly registers that it's himself.

He had been holding Simon just for the sake of holding him by now, but Simon still scrabbles at his arm, cries out.

'I need to go get him,' He's begging, sobbing, gasping. Ralph lets out a shaky breath and pulls him close. Looks to the North Building.

'There's nothing we can do, Simon.' He whispers, leaning his cheek into his hair and staring at his shoes.

 

He's completely and utterly numb.

 

-xXx-

 

All the way down the stairs, Roger thinks of nothing but Merridew. Did he make it out? Is he alright? Did he get hurt?

He moves on auto-pilot, following the crowd of students, all pushing past each other to get out of the school as it burnt down around them. Roger is aware that he's hot - too hot, uncomfortably hot, covered in sweat and seven different layers of grime - but he doesn't complain, doesn't stop to wipe his forehead or try and catch his breath, like others he pushes past.

The smoke isn't so bad. Richer and heavier than that he's used to, but still toxins all the same. Roger resists the urge to breathe in, draw them in, ruin his systems and organs and cells all the more, and pushes through the doors.

Out on the lawn, the air is refreshingly cool, and Roger's eyes land on Merridew's. Roger hadn't been aware that he had actually been holding his breath until he sighs in relief, finds his lungs aching from denial. It's a familiar ache.

He goes to him, ~~always, _always_ goes to him~~ , and leans against the courtyard wall beside him. One of his hand-rolled cigarettes is tucked behind his ear, and the lighter his father had given him before the term had started is in his hand. Roger watches as he lights it, then lets it go out. On, off. On, off.

'Haven't you had enough smoke?' His voice is thick. He hopes Merridew blames the fire. Merridew looks to him, then to the scene before them.

'Wasn't in there.' Roger blinks, then looks to the grass at the taller boy's shoes.

'Did you see what happened?' He asks finally, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Merridew sniffs in disdain.

'No. And even if I did, I wouldn't fess up,' He turns to Roger, towers over him, 'I'm no snitch.' That last bit is said in a way that makes Roger think there's a double meaning. Like, maybe, he's asking him a question. He isn't sure - Merridew is too close for him to be able to think about anything other than him.

'I'm no snitch, either,' He says finally, eyes lifting to meet his, and he wets his lips. They're colder than Roger has ever seen them, and his forearm drops to rest on Roger's head, pressing down subtly. His cruel expression doesn't give away, and Roger loves it. Wants to kiss him until the already permanent scowl is engraved into his features.

Instead, he drops his gaze, looks to the side, and tilts his head to rub his temple into his shirt. Baring his throat. Tucking his tail between his legs. The taller boy hums and grabs his arm, pushes him to the wall. The metal of his lighter is pressed to his neck when Merridew braces his hand over his pulse, leans down close.

'Chief.' He finishes his last thought belatedly, and Merridew grins, satisfied. He hums, then shoves Roger back roughly, turning back to rest his back against the wall once more. Roger desperately misses the chill of the lighter - desperately wishes that Merridew would've sparked it, marked him as his, ~~always, _always_ his~~ , finally did at least a semblance of what Roger thought about when the sun went down. When he could be forgiven for thinking such things about his best friend, his Chief. His Merridew.

'Isn't he so pretty?' Merridew murmurs beside him, snapping him from his thoughts. Roger almost doesn't mind. He follows his gaze to Gornick, lying on the grass, staring at the sky. Roger feels as though he's been punched in the gut. He would never truly be _his_ Merridew. He would always really be Gornick's Jack, first and foremost. Even before he's Head Boy. Even before he's all the nasty things that make him so perfect.

 

Jack is weak, and soft, and his eyes are warm, his hands careful. He smiles too much, he speaks too quietly. Loves too easily.  
Roger hates him.  
Roger hates Gornick for making Merridew like that.

 

'Sure.' His tone is bored, and he rolls his eyes. This conversation had been had many times before - he could recite both parts in his sleep.

'I want to ruin him. So fuckin' badly. I've never been able to really pin him down - he's just there. Just out of reach. Almost mine, but never quite.' Merridew has taken the cigarette down from behind his ear, and grinds it between his fingers. He liked to pretend that he wasn't totally and utterly in love with Gornick, liked to pretend that he was still in control. 

'Ruin him?' He sighs, scuffing his shoe in the grass. Merridew leans in close, grabbing his shoulder, and even though, _even though_ it happens time they talk about this, Roger still can't breathe.

Merridew is about to continue, but he's cut off by the roof caving in, and Roger can't tell if he's glad or not when he pulls away, drawing up onto the balls of his feet. 

And Roger might be losing it, but he thinks he sees the ghost of a smile on his features.

He feels a stab of suspicion, and looks away.

But even if Merridew did do what he's thinking he did, it didn't matter. What he said was true.

Roger wasn't a snitch. Especially when it meant snitching on the boy he loved.

 

-xXx-

 

Charles knew something was up with Merridew.

Especially when he was supposedly seen outside before the fire had started. Especially since he was watching the building go up with a sick, satisfied look on his face. Charles watches him play with that stupid lighter - he was the only one on campus who was even allowed to have one. But that didn't mean anything.

But something was up with Merridew. Something that had to do with the fire that killed his best friend's brother.  
And he would find out what.

Ralph is watching Merridew, always watching him. His usual slow, carefree manner sharpened whenever the Head Boy did something that drew his attention. His eyes are trained on every deliberately lazy move Merridew makes. Charles watches as their eyes meet, as Ralph smiles at him. It's a tiny smile, but it's there. And it says a thousand words - words that he knows Ralph will whisper into the phone later. Or into Merridew's neck. Whichever came first.

Charles steps forward and grabs his arm.

'Ralph,'

'Hm?' He hums distractedly, looking after Merridew and biting his lip. Maybe the carbon and ash of the smoke had finally gotten to him - he was acting even more flighty than usual.

'You need to keep an eye out for Merridew. More than usual.' Ralph hums, reluctantly looks away from Jack to meet his eye, shoulders instantly rolling back in that bored stance Ralph so often takes. If this was a normal situation, Charles would be telling him to just let it go and go public with him. It wasn't like people didn't already know. But this isn't a normal situation.

'Why?'

'Something's going on. With this fire. With Merridew.' Ralph's eyes harden and he steps back, clearly offended for Merridew's sake.

'You think Jack started the fire?'

'It wouldn't be far fetched. He's done other things.'

'Yeah,' Ralph looks back to Merridew, bites his nail, 'But arson? But...  _Murder?_ No. Jack wouldn't... Even that's too far for him.'

'Technically, he could argue that it was manslaughter.' Ralph looks away and wraps his arms around himself, bites his lip hard.

'He wouldn't do something like that. Not... Not when he knew someone could get hurt. He wouldn't,' He takes a step away, and Charles sighs, 'That _I_ could get hurt.'

'I don't think your safety is necessarily high on his list of priorities.' Ralph blinks back what look like tears, and sets his jaw. 'Just... Be careful, alright?' Ralph shrugs, and Charles knows he's lost him.

'Yeah. Whatever. Keep an eye on Simon.' He mutters and pushes past him. Walks towards Merridew, who grins when he sees him. Like a cat, who's just caught the mouse.

Charles lets him go, and tries to push down the squeezing feeling in his gut.

 

-xXx-

 

People were starting to talk. Starting to gossip.

Really, it was only natural. It was what people did. What teenagers did, especially when restricted to a group of 600 boys dropped in the middle of fuck knows where, with the nearest town an hour's drive away and barely consisting of a shit motel, a gas station and a handful of farmhouses. Especially when the last big and exciting thing was when a seventh year and the new English teacher were found shagging in her office.

This was much bigger and more exciting than where Tommy Baker likes to stick his prick.

But still.

People were talking. About Merridew. Voicing their suspicions in low, paranoid whispers as they gather at the gates, waiting for coaches to take them to the shit town 80 kilometres away. Suspicions that he himself shared.

But still.

It was Merridew. He was Head Boy - image was important for him. Reputation was important. Everything was planned with him, everything was deliberate. And these weren't just silly little rumors about him and Gornick. These boys were accusing him of arson. Of murder, in varying degrees and forms, depending on who you spoke to. This gossip was sure to ruin him. Ruin his position as Head Boy - and Merridew loved that power, second only to Gornick.

Roger wanted to put it to a stop.

Piggy was the loudest - always was. The biggest thing about him was his mouth, which was certainly saying something. There he is, babbling on to anyone who will listen that Merridew is on to something! He has to pay for his crimes! Roger catches him comforting the boy who's brother died, assuring him that Merridew - or anyone else responsible - would pay for the little brat's death.

He catches Piggy's eye and snarls, effectively shutting him up. But just because he'll keep quiet when Roger is around doesn't mean he will when he isn't.

Gornick's whole friend group pissed him off. Gornick pissed him off. He didn't know why Merridew has kept him around this long - the effects of good looks must wear off eventually, right?

Speaking of Golden Boy, Roger catches sight of him as he wanders away, towards the burning building. Although he laughs disdainfully to himself, he doesn't really blame him. Everyone else was fixated on it too, watching as it crumbled down in front of them. What people say about watching a building burn is true - you can't look away from beautiful disasters like this, despite any uneasy feelings associated with it.

Maybe that's why he loved Merridew so much.

 

Roger watches from the edge of the crowd as Merridew straightens up from he knelt next to some crying first year - always playing the part of Head Boy when he had the chance - looking over to where Gornick sits, on a stone bench by the fire. He hopes he won't go over - the coaches that were coming to take them into town were due at any moment. But Merridew never paid any mind to anyone but him and Gornick, not really. He stands, brushes off his knees, and produces a cigarette from his pocket.  
This one is store bought, the filter still on. Jack breaks it off, and drops the orange butt to the ground as he wanders over. Roger scoffs and turns away from them as the first coach pulls into the driveway, and he shoulders through the crowd, eager, for once, to get away from Merridew. He takes a seat at the back of the bus, cramming into the corner and putting his headphones in.

There's a moment of weakness, where he twists in his seat, watching Merridew cradle Gornick's face to his chest, watching Gornick's fingers curl loosely into his blazer as he goes slack in his arms. Despite the desire to look away, Roger watches until the bus pulls out of the driveway and another blocks his view.

He found that it was just like watching a train wreck. Or, more appropriately, a building crumble into ashes. The two of them were beautiful disasters. Together, they were a cataclysm of surpassing looks and unfortunate news for everyone involved.

 

-xXx-

 

Ralph wonders what it would be like to go up in flames.

Sometimes, he feels like it, under Jack's hands, in the dark of his room, when the taller boy's voice is no more than a hoarse whisper. Nights with Jack were an end of summer bonfire. His hands kindling, his mouth a spark. Ralph's burning then is always pleasurable, always slow and soothing in it's ache.

This kind of burning must be torture. To sit and scream while your flesh burnt away, while your very life went up in smoke.

  
The North Building is still smoldering when he sits on a bench in front of it. Things fall within it, the sound of toppling support beams and crumbling of stone breaking through the roar of the fire.

He's supposed to be at an inn in the nearest town, in bed beside Charlie or Sam or Eric. He isn't supposed to be out here, surrounded by the fire that the fire brigade just decided to let play out, control from a distance.

Jack isn't supposed to be out here either. But he comes up beside him, seemingly from nowhere, an unlit cigarette in his hand. He offers it to him, silently. Ralph is almost tempted to take it.

'You alright?' He murmurs, tucking it behind his ear when the offer remains unaccepted. Ralph shakes his head and looks back to the building. 'Weren't you supposed to go out tonight? Why were you - you could've gotten hurt, Ralph.' Jack's voice is thick with something, but Ralph doesn't look up to see if the unidentified emotion reflects on his features.

'If I did, I would've deserved it. It's my fault.' He says, mostly to himself. Jack hums, stepping behind him and easing his fingers through his hair, over his scalp. He must know that it calms him, because Ralph can see a ghost of a smile when he looks up, head tipping back and resting on his stomach.

'You shouldn't tell me that. Talk to Headmaster Sheridan about it.'

'Not... Not the fire. Peter.' Jack's face is blank, then he grunts in recognition, idly curling a longer piece of hair around his pinky. Ralph wants to pull away - Peter was dead, and he still didn't care enough to learn his name.

'That wasn't anyone's fault - it was an accident. I'm sure... Whoever set that fire didn't mean for it to spread that far. _If_ anyone set it, that is.' He steps back to his front, placing both hands on his head, smoothing over his hair as he looks past him to the wall. Ralph lets himself press his face into his chest, feel his heartbeat against his lips. Jack grins and cradles his head possessively, fingers curling into his hair.

'There's no way that wasn't arson. It spread so quickly - especially with a stone building.' His voice is muffled by his shirt, but Jack still hums, rubbing a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger.

'An old building,' He mumbles, then lets go of Ralph's hair. Ralph doesn't lift his face - not yet. 'We should go. Everyone is waiting for us.' The last coach is idling in the grand driveway, and Ralph knows it's full of their classmates, all leering to get a look at them. He wants to hold Jack as close as possible, be wrapped into his arms. But he knew Jack wouldn't touch him, once he pulls away. Reputation was important for him. For them. Still, he remains where he is, just for a moment longer.

'Ralph.' Impatience is starting to edge into his voice, and Ralph finally sits back, looking up at him.

'Sit with me?' He whispers, voice weak. Jack looks to the bus, sighs, then takes his face in his hands.

'Sweet boy,' Jack murmurs, searching his face, 'You know I can't.'

'Please?'

'Ralph,'

'We don't even need to touch. I just need to know you're beside me. Please, Jack. I... I really need you right now.'

'No, you don't. You just think you do.' A thickness wells up in Ralph's throat, and - all of a sudden - the threat of tears has returned. Jack frowns deeply, brows drawing in. He grabs Ralph by the chin and leans down so they're almost kissing. Ralph's lashes flutter closed - he thinks they will. Jack's kisses always made him feel better, always distracted him from everything else. It was the least he could do, if he refused to do anything else.

'Stop crying. It's pathetic.' He hisses instead, then shoves his chin away roughly, straightening up. The rest of the way to the coach is walked at a brisk pace. Jack doesn't spare him a single glance as he hoists himself into the bus.

 

Later, however, Jack is exactly what he needed on that bus. In the privacy of his room, of course.

They sit on Jack's bed, Ralph curled into Jack's lap, into his chest. He's a mess, but he's beyond caring. He sobs out loudly, snot clogging his nose, tears stinging his eyes, and presses his face into Jack's chest. Jack rubs soothing circles into his back and doesn't complain that he's getting his grossness all over the expensive cashmere of the school uniform blazer.

He hasn't let himself cry like this in... Well, he's never let himself cry like this. It wasn't something he did. Wasn't something his family did.

Jack runs his hand through his hair, cheek resting on the top of his head.

'It's okay, sweet boy. I'm here. You're okay. You're okay - I've got you.' Ralph nods and clings to his shirt, face pressing into his shirt as he climbs more solidly into his lap. 'I can help you get your mind off things, if you want. Get your mind off - what's his name?'

'Peter,' Ralph supplies miserably, lifting his face to rest his cheek on his shoulder, out of tears. His breaths still stutter into wracking sobs, but at least the worst of it was over. 'And no. Not tonight. Please, I just want to... lie here. For a bit. If you don't mind.' Jack is silent and still under him, and Ralph can feel the annoyance rolling off him in waves. He sits up, hurries to continue, ignoring his wrecked appearance. 'If you do, I totally get it. Simon probably needs me, I should -' He moves to climb down, but Jack places a hand, solid and demanding, against his back and frowns.

'Stay.' He murmurs, voice soft despite his frown. He pulls his sleeve over his hand and wipes at his cheeks - Ralph can't help but lean his cheek into his hand, closing his eyes and sighing in relief. He knew that if he left, he would crumble all over again, be worse without Jack's reassuring presence under him. He slumps against him and sniffles, letting out another sob. 'And calm down. That fire couldn't have been your fault. Couldn't have been anyone's.' He tacks that last bit on belatedly, as if worried that Ralph doubted his innocence. Ralph just chalks it up to him being his naturally shifty and guilty self - no matter how high and mighty he acted, he knew Jack. If anyone was hurting, even if he had nothing to do about it, it would chew him up for hours, sometimes days.

'I'm not - I know the fire wasn't - It's Peter.'

'Stop thinking about him.'

'I _can't_ \- '

'Ralph. That kid died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not because of you.'

'He was in that place because of me.' He says quietly, then it all spills out, and he sobs again. He has to tell _someone_ about that evening, or he'd implode. 'He was... We were going to go out, right? Peter wanted to... Wanted to come too. He always wants to - you know how he is. Was.' He pauses, and Jack moves to quiet him.

'I don't need to...'

'I need to tell someone. Please. Just listen, for me.' Jack nods, and Ralph continues, voice strained around more tears - and here's thinking he ran out. 'I got tired of it. The constant nipping at our heels, like a... Like a ill-trained pup. So I told him to go... To go home.' It was a softened version of the truth, but he can't quite bring himself to voice the things he snapped through the crack in the door, quietly so Simon wouldn't hear over the running of the tap. He leans against him, and Jack kisses his temple. 'I should've just let him hang around. He would've been fine if I had.'

'The fire started in the main building, by the Headmaster's office. It wasn't meant to spread that far out, baby. It wasn't meant to get that big - ' Ralph glances up at him. How did he know so much about this fire? Because of his position? 'That's just my theory, anyways. None of this was meant to happen.'

 

Ralph stays the night, curled up in Jack's arms and the reassuring weight of darkness. Jack's breath plays soft and warm over his shoulder and neck, rustling his hair and clothes.

'Can I tell you something else?' Ralph murmurs, still too loud in the silence of the hotel.

'Anything,' Jack breathes, a more appropriate volume. He sounds like he's moments from sleep. Or just woken up - Ralph can't really tell. He swallows, tucks his face into his neck.

'I love you.' The realization was made hours ago, when Jack finally let him from his lap, removing his shirt to lend to him. He had smiled so softly at him, looked so fondly at him.

Jack is silent, excruciatingly so. Ralph knew he would be - tries not to be too disappointed as he blinks back tears, pushing his face further against his neck to hide a quiet sob.

'Don't.' He says finally, and Ralph is so surprised that he said anything at all, that he pulls back and squints into the darkness. 'Don't do that.'

'What?'

'Love me.'

'Why?'

'Because I'll wreck you if you do. I don't know how to - love anything good. Do anything good. And you're good - _God_ , you're so good. So fucking good.' Ralph sniffs and smiles, a wavering smile. He leans down and pushes his face to his chest, so he can feel it. Jack grips his hair, grips him like he's the only thing keeping him grounded. 'Don't. I'm no good for you.'

'I don't care.'

'I do. Jesus, Ralph - you're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I can't afford to - I can't afford to go and ruin it by being myself.' Jack is silent, shifting uncomfortably beneath him. 'Because... Because I love you, okay? I love you with my entire - all of me. Is yours. All of my shitty habits and shittier actions. There - you happy?' Ralph smiles wider, and nods.

'I love you,' He repeats softly, caressing his face. Jack makes a chocked noise and grabs for his face, pulling him into a hard kiss.

'Say it again,' He murmurs, and Ralph gives a tearful laugh, kissing back.

'I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.' He repeats it until it doesn't sound like a phrase anymore, until he can't think of anything but Jack, who has rolled them over and pressed into him, fingers gripping his skin, painfully tight. It's a familiar pain, a familiar heat. That summer bonfire he so craves.

Forget smoke.  
Fire must be the most cleansing thing out there.


	2. you're gonna set me on fire.

'I'm afraid we're going to have to remove you from the position of Head Boy.'

'What?'

  
They sit in Headmaster Sheridan's room, across from each other under the window. The thin woman folds her hands in her lap and looks down at her shoes.  
Even though they all only have one change of clothes, the woman still looks impeccable. Jack wants to spit in her face.

'Well, Jack, I'm sure you know that the students have been... Talking. As is understandable, with such a tight-knit group - '

'Tight-knit?' He laughs mirthlessly, but the Headmaster continues on as if he had simply sat in silence.

'And a lot of people are saying that you, ah, started yesterday's fire.' Jack leans back in the chair, raises his brows.

'And you believe them?'

'I don't believe them. But you of all people should be aware that we take our reputation very seriously at this school. And rumors of a-a student committing  _arson -_ especially a Head student - we just can't...'

'Still! You can't just... How will I explain this to my mum? To my  _dad?_ My university applications were riding on this!' The woman shifts uncomfortably at the mention of his father, and Jack doesn't miss it. He wouldn't have mentioned his father if he didn't know it would set Sheridan on edge.

'I know, Jack. It's only temporary. We've already lined a student up to fill in, and as soon as this clears - '

'Who?'

'I'm sorry?'

'Who's the student?' He leans forward in his chair, arms set on his thighs. He tries not to look too engaged - tries not to seem like he was going to find whatever boy was taking his position, his  _power,_ and crack his head against the nearest brick wall.

'That's none of your concern. Just worry about your studies. As soon as this whole mess is cleared up, and we find out what really happened, it'll be as if nothing happened. It won't even go on record!' Jack scoffs, shakes his head.

'This is bullshit.'

'Language, young man,'

'I don't give a shit about  _language_ right now! I fucking - earned this! It's not fair that you can just - pull the rug out from under me because some jealous wankers are obsessed with getting the upper hand!' He stands up briskly, and the woman flinches back, hand flying to her pantsuit pocket. She probably had the hotel security on speed dial, just for this reason. Jack shifts back and looks at the ceiling, laughs ruefully as a mocking smile pulls across his features.

 _This_ is why he threw a flaming ball of notebook paper into the open window of the North Building.

'You know what? You can have your fucking pin. It's fine.' He holds her gaze in spite as he unpins it from his blazer, throws it to her feet.

On the way out, he slams her door as forcefully as he can. When it shakes in it's frame, he smiles to himself, and heads down the hallway to find Ralph.

 

Piggy answers when he knocks on Ralph's door, nervously shifting in the frame. He must be sharing with Ralph.

He also must be the reason why Jack was in this situation. His mouth was too damn big for his own good - Jack had to remember to give him a punch right in the teeth, help him keep it shut. But not right now. He sighs, adopts a bored expression.

'Is Gornick in?'

'U-uh, no. He's, uh, he went to the library down the street a while ago,' Jack turns, heads down the hall, and Piggy stutters after him, practically gushing nervous energy, 'He was pretty, um, upset about... Things. So, um, you probably shouldn't - '

'Shut up, Fatty.' He hisses over his shoulder, stalking down the hall. Behind him, the door hesitantly closes, and as if on cue, the lift doors chime and slide open, and Ralph half steps out. He had on a fresh set of clothes on - his father probably flew down here with a bag of clothes for him as soon as he heard about the fire.

Jack steps forward, pushing him back into the lift and against the back wall, hands burying in his hair as he pulls him into a rough kiss. Ralph makes a quiet, surprised noise into the kiss as the doors drift closed again. 

'Jack,' He whispers, pulling away, 'Someone could... see us.' The lift starts moving, so Jack reaches to the control panel and jams the red button that stops it, never looking away from Ralph.

'Happy now?' He murmurs back, and Ralph bites his lip, eyes flicking to the bare lapel of his blazer.

'They told you.' Jack blinks, looks down at him.

'What?'

'Never mind. Just, um, what were we doing?' He grabs the bare lapel, tugging him back down.

'Tell me what you mean, Ralph.' He says carefully, and Ralph looks away, hand pressing to his chest.

'Can we talk about this later?'

'We can talk about it now.' Ralph's fingers curl into the blazer again, and he tips his forehead forward to press into his collarbone.

'Don't get mad,' He whispers, and Jack scoffs, but grips his shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft wool of his jumper as he starts, 'But, um, my father came by to drop my clothes off, at Headmaster's room for me. And, um, she took the opportunity to bring the um... Change? Of position up?' Jack's fingers press into his skin until he winces.

'Did you know? Before he did?'

'No! No - I was with you all night last night, remember?' _Not all night_ , Jack recalls to himself. He can still remember how badly his hands were shaking. It took too many tries to light his lighter, 'But Headmaster Sheridan decided to bring it up to my father before anything else. He, um.'

'Loved the idea.' Jack supplies softly, 'But you said no, right?'

'I-I had no say, Jack.' He blinks into his shoulder, hand dropping to his side, 'Jack?' Jack pulls away, presses the red button again, and the lift jolts into motion. Ralph lets out a strangled noise behind him. 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't,'

'I didn't want it! I didn't - I don't want _power_ , Jack, I'm not like you. Can't you understand that?'

'Not like me.' Jack snorts, looks up to the floor number. This lift couldn't move any slower, could it?

'That's not - '

'You know what's funny? You said you love me.'

'I do!'

'Really? Because I don't know a lot about love, but I do know that this isn't what love is!' The doors open, and Jack steps out into the hall, finally looking at him. He has tears in his eyes, and Jack suddenly feels a stab of guilt. He wants to pull him across into the hall and into his arms, apologize and kiss away the tears. But then he remembers that he brought it on himself, so he frowns. 'Don't call me.' He says calmly as the doors start to close. Ralph jerks back like he's been burned, and looks down at his feet so Jack couldn't see his tears. Jack turns before the doors close, and walks briskly down the hall.

 

-xXx-

 

Ralph couldn't breathe.

This was worse than the night before, worse than the smoke. He thought he was choking then, but he had never breathed clearer than those twenty minutes inside. His whole world felt like it was burning up around him, too. First, the only actual place that he feels happy goes up in literal smoke, and now the closest thing he has to a boyfriend is refusing to even look at him because of a silly little pin.

He could barely press the button to his floor, he's so upset. He leans against the wall, gasping as he stares at the floor numbers ticking by. There's only two floors between them, but the ride up feels like an eternity.

 

Ralph opens the door to his room, only to be greeted by a flurry of Charlie's prying questions.

'What did Merridew want? Why did he look so angry - why do you look so upset?' Ralph rubs at his eyes and turns away, pulling the suitcase full of clothes off his bed and collapsing onto it. 'What did he say to you?'

'Not now, Charlie!' Ralph snaps, pressing his face into his pillow. Charlie pauses, then hesitantly sits on the edge of his bed, resting his hand on the space between his shoulder blades.

'Are you alright?' He asks quietly, and Ralph sighs into the pillow, pulling it over his ears. Charlie shifts over him, then slowly lies next to him on the double bed, rubbing his back. 'If you don't want to talk, that's fine. But I'm not going to leave you alone to deal with Merridew.' Ralph smiles shakily and lifts his face to look at him.

'How's Simon?' He asks instead, voice quivering.

'The police came when you were out. They're questioning him.'

'Why?' Thoughts go back to the evening, and _oh God_ , the cops would come here next. No one could've heard his exchange with Peter, right? Even if they did let him get away with letting Peter go back to his room, his friends would never forgive him. _Simon_ would never forgive him. And then where would he be? Forced to talk to a boy who wouldn't even look at him?

'I dunno - oh, Ralph, you don't need to worry about that right now. Simon will be fine, we all will.' He nods and closes his eyes, brows drawing in as he reaches for Charlie's hand, squeezing hard. Charlie shifts closer and rubs his back reassuringly. 'Just sleep it off, alright?'

'Stay?' He whispers, feeling a stab of guilt. Charlie always had so much to worry about, and now Simon's mental state had added tenfold to that weight. Ralph felt bad distracting him away from his bigger responsibilities because he broke up with someone he wasn't even  _dating._ Charlie smiles down at him and nods.

'Of course. You know me - I'll always stick around.'

 

-xXx-

 

Charles stays in bed beside Ralph until he falls asleep, running his thumb over the back of his hand as he tries to text Simon with one hand.

**_Where are you?_**

**I'm with Ralph. He's really upset right now.  
**

**_These guys are really freaking me out._ **  
**_They keep saying that they think it was arson. They're asking me if any third years_ **  
**_had like... enemies._ **  
**_They were eight. The only things they fought about was whether or not Star Wars is_ **  
**_a good movie._ **

**The police think it was arson?**  
**Do they have any suspects?**

**_If they did, do you really think they would be with me?_**

**_Why?_ **

**No reason.**  
**There's just a few questionable people within our midst.**

**_What are you going on about?_**

**Nothing. I shouldn't say it over text, anyways.**

**_Jesus, Chaz. Why are you so cryptic sometimes?_ **  
**_Shouldn't I know about people's theories? I know people are talking about it. They_ **  
**_just shut up about it as soon as I walk in the room._ **

**I think you should be completely aware about everything happening with this mess.**  
**Look. I'm just waiting for Ralph to fall asleep so he doesn't do anything stupid while**  
**I'm gone. As soon as he's out, I'll come get you and tell you what I think. Okay?**

_**Ok.** _

Charles turns his attention back to Ralph, resting his phone on his stomach and pushing his hair from his face.

'Who was that?' He croaks, sounding about five seconds from dropping to sleep right then and there.

'Simon.' Ralph nods, closing his eyes.

'How is he?'

'It's slow going,' Ralph rolls onto his side, pushing his face into the pillow. 'Uh - I think I'm gonna tell him. About what I think Merridew did.' Ralph lifts his head, biting his nail. For a moment, Charles thinks he'll fight him on this whole Merridew business. Then, he drops his head onto his shoulder and nods tiredly.

'Don't upset him anymore than he already is.'

'I won't.' Charles whispers hoarsely, holding back a sigh when Ralph practically attaches himself to his side. In no way was he gonna be able to get out of that without waking Ralph up again.

 

Sure enough, when Ralph drops off and his soft snores fill the room, he becomes dead weight that presses down on his chest. Charles carefully uncurls his hands from his school jumper and squirms out from under him, careful to let him down gently. Ralph whines quietly, making a weak grab for him. Charles sighs and quickly stands, brushing his hair from his face. Ralph hums in his sleep and presses his face into the pillow, wrapping his arms around it. Charles turns off the lights and carefully opens the door, wincing when it squeaks loudly. He glances back into the darkness, worrying his lip. There's no movement from Ralph, so he slowly shuts the door and pulls his phone back out.

**Okay, he's out. Where are you?**

 

 

Down in Headmaster Sheridan's office, Charles stands behind Simon, a hand on his shoulder, as a policeman drills him through questions, presumably the same set he had asked Simon.

'Where were you at approximately 7:24 last night?'

'Um - I was in my room, getting ready to go out.'

'Where were you going to go?'

'Into town - we were going to go and sign out, then catch a bus here.'

'Why?'

'I dunno - a change, I suppose. We skipped dinner last night, we planned to eat out.' The man makes a note in a pad, looking between him and Simon.

'Did you know Peter Das personally?'

'Um, not personally? He's Simon's little brother.'

'Was.' Simon corrects quietly, staring at his shoes.

'Was. He was around sometimes, and I liked him, but we weren't really... Friends.'

'And any other of the third years who perished?'

'No, I only really knew _of_ them.' Again, the man makes a note, then puts his notepad away, giving them a quick, professional nod and a restrained smile.

'Alright. That's it. Have a nice night, boys.'

 

Outside of the makeshift office, Simon grabs Charles' arm and pulls him down the hall, into an open supply closet. He shuts the door after glancing into the hall, then turns to Charles. His eyes are round and bright in the low light.

'Okay. Tell me what you meant earlier. Who do you think it is?' Simon whispers, fingers tight around his wrist, tone focused and intense. Charles winces and lays his hand over his. Simon mumbles an apology and backs away. Charles leans against the boxes of towels and sheets and sighs.

'I think it's Merridew.' He says, the words filling up the cramped space. Simon is silent for a long time as he turns them over in his mind, whispering the name under his breath. Then, he scoffs.

'No, it's not Jack.' He announces, too loudly. Charles straightens up and pushes his finger against his lips. He can make out the roll of Simon's eyes in the low light as he pushes his hand away. 'It's not Jack. Sure, he does a lot of questionable things, and his... Thing with Ralph is not the healthiest, but _arson_? Not to mention murder? That isn't something he'd do.' Why does everyone think they know Merridew so well?

'Think about it! He hates Sheridan, the fire started in her office. No matter what he says or does, he feels  _something_ for Ralph - '

'Exactly! There was a chance Ralph could've been hurt.'

'He knew we were supposed to be off campus last night, remember? I heard Ralph telling him.' More silence, and Simon shifts his weight from foot to foot. The mood in the supply closet shifts with him.

'Does Ralph know? What you think?' He asks quietly, voice small and strained.

'Yes.'

'So what's he doing still seeing him?'

'I dunno. He was really upset earlier - maybe they broke it off?'

'It's for the best. Because the next time I see Merridew, I'm going to break his nose. Again.' With that, Simon pushes out of the closet, leaving Charles alone.

 

-xXx-

 

 

Ralph wakes up to a dark room and an empty bed. Quite fitting, really.

There are plenty of missed notifications, the usual amount of Snapchats from his friends who aren't in boarding school. A handful of Instagram and Twitter likes, missed texts. None from who he wants to see.

Maybe Jack's phone was off.  
Maybe he was being an idiot and off getting fucked up with Maurice and Roger. Again.

Part of Ralph wants to get up and find him, check to see if he's safe. A big part of him, actually. Most of him. He wants to get dressed and go to Jack's room, drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness, for attention. For _anything_. Even just a glance. A fleeting moment where he thought about him again.

He sits up in bed, quick and hurriedly opening his phone and contact list. He finds Jack's contact, thumb hovering over the CALL button when he recalls the last thing Jack said to him. Ralph stops, holding his phone close to his chest and biting his lip, hard. He drops the phone in the covers, running his hands through his hair. He groans loudly, thumping his head against the wall and screwing his eyes shut.

 _Don't call_. He opens his eyes. He never said not to text him. That didn't count, right? He could do that?

Without dwelling on it, he makes a grab for his phone. With no one around, there was no one to stop him. Someone should really stop him.

 **Hey. I know you said not to call. But this technically doesn't count. I'm texting you.**  
  
**Um. Sorry. That sounded... Like something I'd say.**

 **I just. I miss you. A lot. I love you. A lot. Too much, probably. It's not gonna be**  
**good for anyone involved, I think. And I bet you're probably with your friends**  
**getting fucked off your mind because I know you like to not think about things**  
**and I know that there's been a lot to think about these last 24hrs and that a lot**  
**of the shit is because I'm in your life and I'm sorry. About everything. Please call?**  
**Even if you're wasted. I know you know I don't like that. I just need to hear your**  
**voice. I love you.**

He doesn't read the text before he hits SEND, locking his phone and shoving it under his pillow as he stares into the darkness.

 

He isn't sure how much time passes, but his ringtone comes muffled through his pillow, jerking him into motion. He scrambles for it, answering it quickly.

'Hello?'

'I told you not to call.' Jack says, sounding breathless and angry. At least it was better than radio silence. He was allowed to be angry - Ralph would've been surprised if he wasn't.

'I didn't. I texted. And you called.'

'I know. I read your texts,' Jack sighs on the other end, and someone says something in the background. There's a short, muffled conversation, then Jack returns. 'You're such a brat.'

'Am I your brat?' Ralph tries to smile, tries to lift his tone. Jack is silent for a long time, then he sighs again.

'Ralph, just... It's late, okay? Get some sleep.'

'Okay,' He whispers, blinking back tears. 'Will. Will I see you tomorrow? At the memorial?' More silence.

'Sure. Yeah.'

'Okay,' He whispers again, wishing this was in person, so he can push his face into his chest or his neck and block everything else out.

'Goodnight, Ralph.' Jack's voice is soft and full of regret.

'I love you.' He tries, and Jack swallows. For a moment, Ralph thinks he'll hang up on him without saying anything else.

'I know. I feel the same.' Jack murmurs, barely heard through the phone, then quickly hangs up. It was his own avoidant way of saying it back, but it was better than nothing. Ralph allows himself a genuine smile and lies back, pushing the phone against his chest. _Everything would work out in the end,_ he reassures himself as he drifts off to sleep.

 

-xXx- 

 

Jack wants to throw his phone across the room.

He had called Ralph for one reason, and one reason only - to break it off. Thoroughly and completely, as clean as a break as he can get. Instead, Ralph throws a whole sopping mess of feelings at him, leaving him guilty and rubbed raw.

He pushes his fingers through his hair and groans loudly, throwing himself back on the bed as he curses loudly. Roger shifts at the foot of the bed, where he sits with his knees drawn to his chin.

'God - I can't _stand_ him.'

'Why don't you get forget him?' He asks quietly, and Jack scoffs, digging his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. People weren't supposed to smoke in the rooms, but he really didn't give a shit at the moment. He lights one and takes a drag before replying.

'Easier said than done.'

'Find someone else to distract you, until you two work it out.' Roger shrugs and suddenly seems horribly interested in the rip in the knee of his jeans. Jack rolls his eyes - he knew how Roger felt. He wasn't blind. And he also knew that Roger was pathetic enough to actually let himself be used as a distraction.

'So what? I find some other boy who looks like him to pass the time with?'

'Not necessarily. I. Um. I think it would be better, actually if you did it with someone who is like... The opposite of Gornick.' Jack laughs loudly and takes another drag, shaking his head. 'What? I just... I think you should find someone more... permanent. We all know that Gornick isn't much more than a pretty face.' Jack purses his lips and feels the temptation to defend Ralph. Then he remembers what happened earlier that day and lets it go.

'You think that, do you?' He says instead, turning to look at him. 'You wanna set me up with my next boyfriend? Maybe I'll even marry him, who knows!'

'Just forget it.' Roger mumbles, receding in on himself. Jack scoffs and moves closer.

'No. Tell me - what did you have in mind?'

'Don't worry about it, Chief.' Roger stares at his shoes, tensing when Jack runs his fingers along his thigh.

'Did you want it to be you?' He asks, rising onto his elbows and grinning wickedly. 'Did you want me to pin you to a wall? Or a mattress? Or even bring you to the floor and do it there? Were you  _so desperate_ for  _something_ with me that you just wait to pounce as soon as I look single?' He mocks, hand trailing up to his stomach, pressing back. Immediately,  Roger lies back, cheeks coloring. Jack scoffs and puts his cigarette in his mouth, holding only by his lips. He hovers over Roger, hand going to his groin. He squeezes, smiling down at him cruelly.

'Did you want to replace Ralph?' Roger remains silent until Jack seizes his wrist, gripping painfully tight, making him cry out loudly.

'Yes,' He whispers, blinking up at him, pulling his wrist to his chest when he drops his arm to his stomach.

'That was all I wanted to know, Roger.' He whispers, false gentleness settling in his tone. Roger visibly relaxes and nods, looking up at him through his lashes. It reminded him of a face Ralph would pull, when he wanted to get his way. He sinks closer, fingers smoothing over his wrist in a way he knows will be soothing. Roger edges closer into his side and lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes when Jack's fingertips work over his scalp. 'You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?' He murmurs, and Roger nods, face vulnerable and open. Jack smiles - he craved this, getting more in control of everything around him. Being able to twist people around his fingers.

'So much,' He whispers, and Jack cups his jaw.

'It's too bad,' Jack murmurs, and Roger opens his eyes in confusion, wetting his lips in nervousness, 'You could never replace Ralph. You're... Just not him.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok guys like,,, this is inspired (VERY VERY VERY VAGUELY LMAO ONLY IF YOU SQUINT) by the actual plotline of the actual lotf novel starting wit that big ass fire that killed that mulberry kid (peter... my son...) in like... the beginning when they REALLY didnt know what the fuck they were doing
> 
> but only if u squint bc some Things in Chapters Just Before The Number 10 don't happen


	3. tenderly they turned to dust.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some Good Simon Content with some Melodramatic And Cliche Ralph Bullshit in the middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was rlly excited abt this chapter bc ive never gotten the chance to rlly DELVE into simon before  
> i love my son

Today was the day that Simon was dreading.

He watches from his window as cars and buses pull up, sad families climbing down, thanking drivers. His hands tighten around the windowsill when he spots his fathers car. The flash of bleached-blonde hair in the passenger seat brings a stab of anger, hard and hot as a fire poker, to his stomach. He frowns and looks away.  
Why was she here? Why did his father bring her? Their stepmother never liked Peter, never liked any of them. All she would do was ruin the memorial with her fake sympathies and hidden, pleased smiles. He looks back out, sees his father looking around. His mother and sisters are already in the lobby. They've been there for hours, or so his texts tell him.

Simon should be in the lobby, too. He knows that. His family is probably looking for him.  
But he doesn't have the courage to go down there with the knowledge that he failed, the guilt a cold stone in his stomach. What would his mother say? His _father_? As much as he hated him, he still craved that nod of approval. Peter was always the favorite, the baby of the family. They would blame him for his... For what happened.

He would rather wait until that evening to face them, when he isn't alone, when his friends are with him, a solid shield to reflect his families' judgement away towards something else.

'How are you?' The soft voice makes him jump, and he spins around to look at Roger, blinking in surprise.

'How did you get in here?' The small boy scuffs his shoe at the faded carpet. If his skin wasn't so dark, he would probably have a perpetual flush, from how shy and quiet he always acted.

'Pig- I mean.' Roger stops, pauses, then starts again, 'Charles let me in. I wanted to. Um. Apologize? We haven't really...' Simon nods and looks away. Was he here on behalf of Jack? Simon still wasn't sure if Charlie's theory had any backing, but he knew by now that the other boy usually turned out right about things like this. And it seemed like something Jack would do.

'Did your friends send you?' He says carefully, although they both knew that Jack was Roger's only actual friend. (And even that was a stretch.) Roger shakes his head, rubbing at the back of his neck.

'No. I sent myself. Although I'm sure Maurice and the lot are sorry too.' Simon nods once. Maurice already stopped by, had sat next to him on the bus for a short moment. He had taken his hand, murmured how _Peter was a good kid_.

Even after he's gone, Simon still can't stop being jealous of him.

'Is that all you wanted?' He asks, clenching his jaw, staring at his shoes.

'Um. I could help you? I know that Gornick is helping set up, due to his... New position,' Simon looks up in surprise, 'And Charles is probably going to go help him.'

'You know about - ' Roger gives him a look, and he flushes, 'Oh. Right. Of course you... Um. No, I don't need - I don't need to be babied by everyone. I'll work it out.' Roger nods, straightening his school jumper.

'Right. I'll see you tonight?'

'Probably not.' Simon turns back to the window. Roger leaves the same way he comes - unseen, unheard. The only sign of his leaving is the sound of the door quietly clicking shut behind him. Simon knows he did it on purpose. He turns back to the room, wandering listlessly away from the window, sitting on his bed to pull his trainers on. He's sick of watching crying teens and sad, confused adults. He was going out.

 

The town is small and quiet. Silent even.

Out here, on the curb of the main road - which, in London, could barely be considered a footpath - he could be someone else. Not someone who's pitied for losing his little brother, not a student who's staying at the hotel, just some boy sitting on the road, staring into space.

It's the best he's felt all week.

 

The occasional car drives by, providing a soothing backtrack to his reflection. He leans back and wishes he got into the habit of smoking when he had the chance, followed Maurice's example like the others did. Even though they pumped your body full of toxins, the scene just called for a cigarette.  
And he wouldn't even mind the toxins. Not right now.

He leans forward and presses his forehead to his wrists, stretching until his back pops, then slumping forward, letting himself go limp. _Sort of like curb yoga_. He smiles at the memory of happier times, before his father had an affair, before his mother started spending more time with her patients than she did with her kids. Before his parents even sent them to this school. Memories of early morning yoga classes and getting smoothies after, laughing together all the way.  
Simon pushes the ghosts away and sits back, turning his face to the sun and sighing before he rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hand, checking his watch. He frowns, knows he should head back to the hotel, slip back into the role of the caring friend, patient son. He feels tired just thinking about it. Pulling his knees to his chest, he presses his nose into the space between them, letting it all wash over him for the first time.

 

It's past lunch when he gets back to the hotel, and the lobby is full of parents and graduated kids who will pretend they knew the older brother of one of the kids who died, just to call the attention back to themselves. It’s not like Simon minded that they did that - they could have it. He didn’t want the sympathetic murmurs and pitying glances when people realized that Peter was one of the half dozen who died in that building.

He spots his mother before she spots him, thankfully, and it gives him time to prepare when the woman moves through the crowd gracefully. A therapist in a super model’s body, she towers over Simon. Everyone in his family is tall and/or broad, and his sisters used to tease him about being adopted.

'Simon, baby,' She sobs, drawing him into a tight hug, curling over him. She hadn't done that since he was young. He hadn't let her do that since he was young. He considers leaning into her and crumbling, for their family image. Appear as a grieving unit in the face of hardship. Instead, he briefly rubs her back.

'Ammi,' He murmurs, because if she was going to bring up moments of his childhood, he could too. The woman sobs again and pulls him in further, crushing him in her embrace. 'Mum, you're - '

'Oh. Right. Sorry,' She pulls away and touches his cheek. He hasn't seen this side of her since before the divorce - the caring, involved mother. For the past year and a half, she's been distant, at work more than she is at home, using her Therapist Voice on him when she is. There is no hint of the Voice now, but he knows it'll come.

His sisters approached while he was caught up in the hug, but they offer no crushing embrace of their own. Simon is glad. Instead, they each rest a hand on his shoulders and give him a sad smile, a _How are you holding up?_  
His father hasn’t formally acknowledged him yet, but when he looks over in his direction, he gives a disdainful frown and turns away to his wife, proving that Simon’s fears about his anger and disappointment was not irrational.

' - so I don't ever want you to think that we do, alright, baby?' Simon looks up at his mother again, blinking. He hadn't noticed that she had started to talk. He presses lips together into a thin line and swallows thickly, nodding as he forces a smile.

'Of course, Ammi.' He manages, and she clicks her tongue, doe eyes filling with tears as her graceful hand lays on his hair, cupping his cheek briefly before drawing back, glancing over her shoulder at his father. Before then, even in her grief, she had looked young and beautiful. Like she was in an Aubrey Hepburn movie, with a dozen different dreamy filters applied over her. Now, her brows draw in and Simon can _see_ the frown lines appearing, and he just wishes that they kept their divorced drama out of things for one goddamn hour.

'We should go somewhere,' He blurts out, 'Somewhere quiet. So we all can catch up.' The three women around him look down in surprise, then his mother forces a smile, and she nods.

 

-xXx-

 

Ralph hadn't realized that being Head Boy was so tiring. Jack had never seemed to complain about the work, always boasted about how he coasted through life.

Maybe it was because he was made for the task.  
Maybe it was because their relationship was doomed from the start, and the only thing of substance that they talked about was how attractive Ralph was, how good the sex was.

Jack is still here, even though he's not Head of anything. Even though Headmaster Sheridan shoots him a reproachful, fearful glance every other moment. He places fold up chairs in neat lines in the conference room the service would be held in, leans blown up yearbook pictures of the third years who died in the fire against the stage. He doesn't falter, doesn't pause for a break, seeming to make a point of ignoring Ralph.  
The shirt he wears is too tight - Ralph recognizes it as Roger's favorite tee, and he pretends that a million what-ifs don't take that little tidbit and run with it - and he can see the muscles of his back, coiled and working under the dark fabric. Ralph longs to pull him to his front and push his face into his shoulder, run his palm up his back, across his shoulders.  
Instead, he rolls the sleeves of his blazer back down and pretends to wander aimlessly over to Robert, a boy from his class who he's spoken to a grand total of twice.

'This is all so terrible,' He murmurs, voice soft and sad. He knew Robert was at least acquaintances with Jack. It was why he was over here.

'Yeah,' Robert sounds surprised that he's even talking to him, and with good reason, 'Wasn't your friend's brother one of the third years who...'

'Yeah. Peter.'

'Were you two close?' Ralph looks up at Robert through his lashes - he knew this would work. The year before, Robert had dated a boy who had graduated that summer for three months, and no one would stop talking about it for weeks when they broke up.

'Yeah. I can't even imagine how Simon must be feeling right now, losing his brother and all. I'm absolutely _wrecked_ about it.' He knew it was petty. Desperate. Anyone could see that. When Ralph sneaks a glance over Robert's shoulder, he notices that Jack hasn't even reacted.

' - I mean, my door is always open, if you need a shoulder to cry on.' Ralph looks back to Robert, having forgotten he was even there for a moment. Put out by the lack of reaction from Jack, he gives him a smile, resting his hand on his chest.

'You're so kind, Robert.' He whispers, turning around and wandering over to sit in a chair. He can almost feel Robert staring at his rear, but he doesn't look at him again for the rest of the day.

 

Ralph finds Simon when he's on his way down to the conference room.

They intercept each other in the hall, and Ralph doesn't have to look at Simon long enough to see that he's been crying. A dart of guilt spears through him when he realizes that he's practically ignored Simon to avoid his own guilt about Peter's death.

'Si,' He murmurs, pulling him into a hug. Simon lets out a choked noise and grabs at his blazer. Over his shoulder, Ralph spots one of his sisters, and he pulls him closer. 'I'm sorry for being so shitty when you needed me most. I know you hate crying in front of relatives.'

'It's okay,' Simon murmurs. 'I heard about you and Jack.'

'That doesn't matter anymore. My stupid boy drama isn't important when - when Peter's...' They hadn't really talked about it. Talked at all, really. He had seen that Simon was broken up about this, and left Charlie to pick up the pieces while he stressed about Jack and flirted with his acquaintances to make him jealous. 'From now on, I'm gonna be present, okay? I want you to hold me to that.' Simon nods as he pulls away, glancing back at his sister.

'Can I sit with you? I've had too much of my mom pitying me.'

'Of course,' Ralph says softly, and Simon smiles, small and a little too forced. He leads his friend into the conference room ahead of everyone but the mourning families. Most of them takes seat in the front rows, nearest to the pictures of their sons, but Simon chooses the back corner, leaning his head on his shoulder when he sits. Ralph notices how he leaves one chair empty on the end, presumably for Charlie.

  
The conference room fills up slowly, students and parents trickling in in pairs and groups of three. No one's alone, Ralph notes, except Charlie and Roger, who come in one after another.

Despite his promise to Simon, Ralph still finds himself watching the door. He spots Robert first, sporting a black eye and determinedly avoiding his gaze. Behind him is Jack, who instead meets his eyes immediately, and seems to walk over to him with a purpose. It's then that Ralph notices the empty seat, and he shifts, looking over to Charlie, who straightens up in his seat, hands curling into fists in his lap. Simon pays no mind to Jack when he sits down in that empty seat.

He's so close that Ralph can't focus on anything else, not when the service starts and the priest asks them to bow their heads in prayer. He distantly registers both of his friends doing so and following suit, staring at his lap as the priest's words flow over his head. He makes sure to hold himself away from Jack, his hands folded in his lap. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jack, staring openly at him, moving closer. Jack's hand drops into his field of vision, palm up and fingers spread in an invitation for Ralph to thread his through the spaces. A peace offering. Ralph doesn't take it.

The prayer ends and heads lift, and Ralph doesn't look back at Jack for the rest of the service.

 

Ralph is headed back to the lift after the service, walking so close to Simon that their shoulders brush, when a familiar call stops him in his tracks.

'Ralph,' He looks over his shoulder at Jack, who stands a little ways away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of turning completely to him. 'Can we talk?'

'I don't know. I'm swamped right now,' He smiles, tapping the enamel pin on his lapel. Charlie snorts beside him and presses the call button for the lift. 'Is it important, Jack?'

'Um - no. I just,' He looks between the other two boys, stepping closer and lowering his voice, 'I just want to see you, baby. I miss you.'

'That's nice,' Simon says, gripping Ralph's elbow a bit too tightly, his whole body wound tight. Jack frowns, refusing to look at Simon for longer than a second.

'Please, I messed up. I was just mad that - ' He stops, and sighs, then starts again. 'I love you, too, Ralph. I should've said that last night, and I don't know why I didn't.' Ralph blinks up at him, hand laying over Simon's. For a moment, he wants to pry his hand away and run to Jack, like he always does. Then he remembers what had happened the night before, how closed off Jack was and how it made him feel, and he remembers his promise.

'I... I can't keep doing this.' He murmurs, looking away as the lift doors sliding open with a pleasant note. 'I can't, Jack. I'm... This can't keep happening.' He lets Simon pull him into the lift, ignoring Jack when he calls his name, desperate and plain.

'Please, baby, I'm sorry.' Ralph jams at the close door button, staring at the spot over his head as the lift doors slide closed.

'Go to hell.'

 

-xXx-

 

Simon felt as though he had to keep watch over Ralph when they get back to the room. Or at least take his phone away.

But he watches from a bed as he paces by the window, nursing the spent filter of a cigarette, chewing at it as he rants, cursing out Jack.

At least he's figured out that Jack is bad news, possible culpability aside.

'He doesn't deserve you,' He offers, and Ralph laughs loudly, throwing the filter out the open window.

'You got that fucking right.' Ralph mutters, leaning on the sill. 'You know? He's so predictable - I only went with him because I thought he was spontaneous and fun, the "bad boy".' He does air quotes, kicking at the wall, 'But he's just the same as everyone else here - an entitled rich kid. He broke up with me because he wasn't Head Boy anymore, and when I didn't come crawling back, he realized that he fucked himself. But there is  _no fucking way_ in Hell that I'm getting back together with him. No way. I'm done with that.'

'Good for you,' Simon glances over at Charlie, who's lingering in the kitchenette with a tea towel, poised under the smoke alarm. The boy raises his brow and winces when Ralph suddenly throws his pack of cigarettes out the window, burying his face in his hands.

'I wish I had that _stupid_ lighter of his. Wouldn't it be ironic if I lit all of his shit on fire with it? The only thing he likes more than himself?' Simon nods and slowly stands. 'The only thing he likes more than me?'

'Yeah.' Ralph lifts his face and toys with the pocket his phone was in.

'I just think I need to be alone for a while.' He says softly, and Simon nods. 'I'm sorry - it's shitty of me. I know I said I wouldn't be selfish anymore, but - '

'I understand,' Simon says, and it would've seemed to an outsider that Ralph was the one who lost a brother, no matter how distant they were with each other.

 

Out on the curb again, Simon props his feet in Charlie's lap. Charlie looks back at the hotel and frowns.

'How long do you think that'll last?'

'He seemed serious this time.' Simon shrugs.

'Should we have taken his phone?'

'Jesus, Chaz, he's his own person. Let him make mistakes,' Simon rolls his eyes and pretends like he hadn't had that exact thoughts moments before. Charlie grunts and looks back at him.

'You seem better about everything,' He says softly, drawing the conversation away from Ralph and towards the fact that he is supposed to be grieving for Peter. Simon blinks and looks down.

'Oh. I guess, um, seeing my mom and everyone just... I have to be strong you know? For her. She just lost her favorite son.' He jokes weakly, but Charlie is unchanging in his sympathetic expression. In moments like this, he looks eerily like his mother. They both have the tendency to treat him like a patient, and he recalls his friend's interest in becoming a psychiatrist. Simon clears his throat and pulls his feet from Charlie's lap.

'You don't have to be strong. You can grieve.'

'I already have. I've had plenty of time to process.' Simon draws his knees to his chest and feels dangerously close to crying. Again. Cursing himself mentally, he blinks hard, chewing the pad of his thumb. He's already cried too much recently, even if some of those tears were faked for appearances.

'You miss him, don't you?' Charlie prods.

'Of course I - he was a little shit, but he was my brother,' There's a long pause, 'Gods, are you _trying_ to get me to cry?' Charlie doesn't answer, and Simon picks at his jeans. 'I've just... I've been numb, ever since we got here. Like - it hasn't really hit me? I guess? Like... I've cried because of things people have said to me about Peter, but I sometimes think he's just been... Somewhere else. And he'll be back any day- not in the religious reincarnation sense. Just.' He squeezes his eyes shut, pushing at his temples.

When he looks over at Charlie, it looks like he's taking mental notes, and he figures to just go all in.

'In the memorial? I thought he'd just stroll in, buried in his Playstation or Wii or whatever that thing is, oblivious to how inappropriate it is to be playing Mario at a  _memorial_ but... He's dead, Chaz.' Simon stares at the pavement, the silence heavy with his words.

'It'll all come. You do know the five stages of grief, right? I think that you're still in the denial stage, and you need to work towards getting through to acceptance, Si.' Simon holds back a snort, and nods.

'Yeah. Sure, I'll work on that. We should - we should probably go back in, make sure Ralph hasn't gone back to Mr. Trigger-happy.'

 

Ralph is lying on the bed when they come back in, hands folded in his lap. He looks up at Simon, smiling sadly.

'You were crying,' He says simply, before they can ask about his relationship status.

'No. Might as well have been though.' Ralph holds a hand out for him, moving over in the bed, and Simon reluctantly takes off his blazer, lowering himself into bed beside him. His arm goes tight around his shoulder.

'I'm sorry. I'm gonna be present from now on.' He repeats his promise from earlier, but he sounds more sincere. Simon wonders what he had been doing when they were outside. 'No more boy drama until you're okay. Or even after that, if I'm feeling it.' He jokes gently, and Simon allows a smile. Ralph's chin rests on his head, and he beckons for Charlie.

'You too, big guy. Come on over here.' He says gently, and Simon snorts, rolling over to look at Charlie.

'We hadn't had a group hug since we were twelve.' Charlie mutters, already rounding the end of the bed.

'We should remedy that.' Ralph's arms are tight around both of their shoulders, drawing them close. After a lapse of silence, Ralph speaks, tone confident and bold. 'You know what? I think we're all gonna get out of this relatively unscathed.'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ammi is like... mom??? in hindi idk i just googled what indian people called their mothers i am White
> 
> ALSO when simon was talking abt his feelings near the end i rlly channeled my own issues with a friend's death, and i think it ??? helped bc ive been highkey fucked up about it since he died and i havent really talked about it to anyone


	4. put me through hell again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short n sweet (that means the next one will be long and hellish and Shit Happens)  
> (holy shit next chapter is gonna be up to 10k long and i already hate myself)
> 
> things are starting to look up for them bois. the endgame is falling into place. everyone is gonna turn out okay and happy by the end of this.

Jack watches the lift doors close helplessly, heart fettering out and going cold when his eyes meet Ralph's. He wanted to push his way into the lift and hold him close, wrap his arms around him and hold him until he softened. He would've, if his stupid friends weren't there.

'Go to hell,' His tone is cold and unwavering, and Jack turns on the wall as soon as the doors close, punching it as hard as he can, three times. His wrist buckles and he curses loudly, holding his hurt hand to his chest. He pushes the call button for the lift again, examining his knuckles. Already, they're red and angry.  
The lift rings and he steps in, considering Ralph's floor for a moment. Remembering his cool demeanor, he instead takes a shaky breath and presses the button above it.

Roger is there in the room when he gets there, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. There's a thick haze of smoke around him, and he sighs.

'You're gonna set the fire alarm off.' He drops down beside him. Roger blinks and takes a drag of his cigarette.

'You'd know a lot about that.' He murmurs, and Jack freezes, looks over. He knew that Roger probably knew, but he wouldn't... Would he?

'What the fuck does that mean?' Roger is quiet for a while, then he turns towards him, guilt etched into his face.

'Nothing. Shit - ' He murmurs, offering the cigarette. A peace offering. 'I just feel bad for Simon. For Peter. I'm all whacked out.'

'Don't feel bad,' Jack says, trying to quell his own guilt. It had been lingering in the pit of his stomach since he first saw Ralph after the fire, saw the guilt and self-blame in the blond's eyes.

'But - '

'Don't. Feel. Bad.' He sits up quickly, glaring down at Roger. 'It happened. It's shitty. Get over it.' He falls back onto the bed, and Roger falls silent. After a moment, Jack realizes that the cigarette is still being offered, slowing burning itself down to the filter. He sighs and practically snatches it from Roger's hand, taking a long, deep drag. He lets the mouthful linger in his lungs for longer than he usually does before blowing it out in a long stream at the ceiling.

'Did something happen?' Roger asks softly, voice alarmingly tender.

'A lot of things happened,' Jack says, voice strained and tired. He can feel Roger shift closer when he continues.

'No, I know. But. With you and Gornick. I saw you go after him.'

'That's none of your concern.'

There's a long silence, and Jack chews at the filter of the cigarette distractedly. The seemingly constant nervous energy from Roger was tripled now, and it set him on edge. He had half a mind to kick him out of the room. Or go for a walk himself. It _would_ give him an excuse to track down Ralph.

'The offer still stands,' Roger says, and then, even softer, 'Jack.'

'What the fuck are you talking about?' Jack knew what he was talking about, but he wanted him to say it. And if he did, he could decide then what it meant, that he was actually  _interested_ in this.

'I mean - fuck him, right? Well - ' Roger winces, then starts again, ' - I mean, he could go to Hell. Forget about him.' He shifts closer, and looks over his shoulder - as if there was anyone else around - and lowers his voice. 'Fuck _me_.' Jack blinks slowly, lets his mouth open slightly as he adopts a look of shock.

'Oh,' He says finally, acting as though he hadn't expected. Hadn't heard Roger's muffled noises down the hall for the past three years. He chalks the mess of feelings up to the rawness Ralph left when he tore away from him so violently. Sitting up slowly, he reaches for the ashtray he had pilfered from the hotel bar, stubbing the cigarette out. Roger fidgets behind him, then sits up too.

'I mean, you don't have to. I was just - ' Jack turns on him and, before he can think of how Ralph would feel if he saw them, kisses him harshly, grabbing his face. Roger makes the smallest noise of genuine surprise and happiness, one hand coming up to rest over his, and Jack grins into the kiss, shifting to climb on top of him and push him down to the mattress. 

 

-xXx-

 

Ralph wakes up to Charlie's light snoring, and he's slightly alarmed at the proximity of it, for a moment.

Then he remembers how the three of them had fallen asleep like they had, rented shitty porn to laugh at and splurged on room service popcorn and sodas. It had been a good night, the best he's had in a while. Even if he considered the nights spent with Jack.  
Especially if he considered the nights spent with Jack. When he lingered on those times now, all he got was a bitter taste in his mouth and an empty feeling in the middle of his chest. So he chose not to linger.

'Hey, you.' Simon whispers, looking up from his phone. He's moved away from them on the bed. 'Did I wake you? I'm sorry.'

'You didn't.' He looks to Charlie's sleeping face, and Simon barely stops a laugh.

'Let him be.' Ralph smiles and sits up, careful not to wake Charlie when he climbs from the bed and walks over to the wardrobe, changing into a clean shirt and boxers. Simon has moved to the other bed when he turns back, so he pulls the covers over Charlie then sits beside him. Without hesitation, Simon rests his head on his shoulder and takes one of his hands, sighing softly.

'How are you?'

'Tired,'

'And yet you still woke up first.'

'No. Not like, tired tired. Like. _Tired_.' Ralph doesn't know what he means, but pretends he does, humming in false understanding. He hopes Simon will elaborate as he rubs the small of his back. He doesn't. Instead, he gives a small, short laugh, shifting closer, 'And you know what? I'm _bored_. I'm bored of being sad and numb all the time. I wanna - I wanna feel something good.'

'What do you mean?'

'I dunno, just - Just good. Like - Whoever responsible for that fire gets whats coming to them. Or dies. Or - or, whoever held Peter up so he didn't come to our room that night gets like, expelled or something a little less horrible,' Ralph hopes Simon doesn't feel him stiffen, 'Or just... Something to make me happy. And feel good. Even just for a moment.'

'Ever try weed?' Ralph says jokingly, trying to push the guilt back to where he had kept it, back with the hollow feeling Jack left, tucked away in the back of his mind.

'Fuck off,' Simon squeezes his hand and bumps his shoulder to his, 'But I want. I just want to be happy again.'

'I want that too.' Simon lifts his head, and looks up at him. When their eyes meet, there's something there that Ralph had never noticed. He shifts his grip on Simon's hand slightly and turns his knees towards his, 'I just - love you. And I want you to be happy.' He's whispering still, but it's not because he doesn't want to wake up Charlie. Or, it still is. For different reasons. Simon bites his lip for a moment, then leans in.

Then, Charlie groans loudly and rolls over in his sleep, and they spring apart. Ralph coughs and rubs at the back of his neck, and Simon clasps his hands in his lap, staring at his socked feet.

'I uh - I'm gonna go. Shower.' Ralph says awkwardly, and Simon nods once.

'Cool. Sounds, uh - cool. Good.'

 

Although he has decided that he and Jack are long over, he still can’t help but feel like he's betrayed him when he touches his lips, fingers playing over the lips.

And although he can't help but feel guilty about this, too, he still can't stop smiling.

 

-xXx-

 

As soon as he finishes, Jack pulls away from Roger, standing up quickly and pulling his pants back up.

'Thanks,' He grunts over the jingle of his belt, 'I'll be down the hall at the twins'.'

As soon as the door shuts, Roger rolls onto his back and clasps his hands to his chest, grinning up at the ceiling like a lovesick. Which, really, he was.

The sex was cold and impersonal, and when Jack bit at his shoulder he moaned Gornick's name, hands too tight around his waist.

Roger touches that spot now, just on the back of his right shoulder. He winces and rubs at the tender skin, glad for the physical reminders that this wasn't just another fantasy.

It was idiotic to be this happy about Jack literally using him to feel better about himself, but he knows that there wouldn’t be anything other than this fleeting moment of false intimacy, and he forces himself him to look on the bright side Maybe, just maybe, it might happen again. And again. And enough times until it maybe, just maybe, it would grow into something else.

Without thinking about it, he sits up and picks up his phone, opening his message app.

 

 **I know what you did. And I know you know I know.**  
          But you don't have to worry. I love you, and I'll  
          never tell anyone.

There's a prompt reply, but he doesn’t look. Even when there's a rapid fire flurry of buzzes. He rests the phone on the center of his chest and chews at the pad of his thumb.

He feels like he's floating, and he can't get enough of it.

 

-xXx-

 

Jack wanders the halls for a bit, feeling like he had on the night of the fire - distant and only slightly aware of his actions.

The only sound are his footsteps, even and timed, and the metallic clinks of him flicking the lid of his lighter on its hinges.

He isn't surprised that he ends up in a lift, but he is surprised to see Ralph when he steps out.

There's a glass door to a public balcony right across from the lift, and Ralph sits against the half wall, staring right at him, a cigarette lit in his hand. As usual, he doesn’t take any drags, just lets it burn down to the filter and lets the smoke lift up around him. Jack squares his shoulders and pushes out onto the balcony, fishing his own pack and lighting one, leaning on the wall beside Ralph.

'Hard day?'

'No. Good day. Weird day. But... Good.' Jack should be happy that he's happy - he wants to be. Wants Ralph to be cared for and happy, preferably by him. But this suggestion that he was perfectly fine without him ticked him off to no end.

'How so?'

'I dunno. I...' He pauses for a moment, 'I almost kissed Simon. I just. Thought you should know.' Jack grunts.

'I've done worse.'

'Oh.' Jack doesn't have to look to know he's hurt. He nods, and then Ralph scoffs. 'Why can’t you fight for this? I did. I spent so much time and money and effort trying to - you know what? I’m glad we're done.'

'You don't think I am? Just because I'm not crying and begging on my knees doesn’t mean I don't want to fight for this! What I did was fucked up, yeah, but I just - I needed to blow off some steam before I came looking for you. I love you, Ralph. I know that's what you want to hear, so I said it. I fucking love you.' He drops the cigarette and grinds it out with his shoe, then steps forward.

'I love you.' He whispers, and Ralph steps back, hitting the wall.

'I hate you.'

'No you don't.' Ralph grits his teeth and looks away, blinking hard  

'No I don't. I miss you so fucking much, and I'm unbelievably pissed, but I don't hate you. I _can't_. And I hate that I can't, because - because - '

'I know, baby.' Jack sinks to his knees in front of him, 'I'd do anything to get you back. See? I'm on my knees for you, baby. I'll beg if you want me to. I'd do anything to make you happy - I'd burn down a building. I'd take a life for you.'

'Fuck you.'

'I don't deserve you.' Jack presses his face to his thighs. 'But please, baby, please give me one more chance. One more. I'll never take you for granted again, I promise.' Ralph scoffs and steps away.

'I told you. We're done. Let it go, asshole.'

'Please, Ralph, I love you,'

'I'm tired of this, Jack! I'm tired of fighting, and then making up, and then fighting again. I just - I want stability. I want S - ' He stops, presses his fingers to his lips, looking at the ground. 'I want something more than secrets.' He starts to open the door when Jack scrambles to his feet.

'Fine. I - I - I'll give you everything I've got. Everything. Secrets, baggage, damage, all that shit. You got it baby, if you want it,' Ralph stops, lets the door drift back closed. His back remains turned to him, 'When I wake up, the first thing I think about is how I can get you to smile. When I go to sleep, the last thing I think about is how lucky I am to even be allowed to look at you, let alone love you. You are my everything, Ralph. You're the only thing I love, and - and all the shitty things about me doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that I haven't had an actual conversation with my parents for six years, and it doesn't matter that they can't even stand to be in the same room as me, let alone each other. It doesn't matter that when I think about my future and I know that we won't last that long, it terrifies me, because I can't even - I can't even function without you, baby. Fuck - one day without you and I'm already making shitty decisions. I.' He stops, knowing that telling Ralph about Roger would break him, break any possibility that they would get back together.

'You what?' His voice is soft, and he knows he's got him.

'I - I did some stupid shit, baby.'

'I thought you said no more secrets.' Jack is quiet for a long time, then he stands, walking over to Ralph and touching his hand gently.

'I can't tell you. It'd - ' Hell, he was already keeping the fire from him. And if he found out about _that_... He'd never even look at him again. This? This was tiny in comparison. 'I slept with Roger - ' Ralph tenses up, pulls his hand away, and he knows, he _knows_ he's gone. Still, he talks, desperate and pleading, with panic rising in his chest and squeezing in on his heart, 'But it didn't even mean anything, Ralph, it was just sex. Just - I was blowing off steam, because I was angry, and - and - and - '

'Angry at me.'

'No! No. No, baby, I wasn't, I couldn't ever be angry at you,' He wants him to look at him, wants to scream at him to look at him, so he can just - just get his point across, 'I was angry at myself, for doing what I did. Saying what I said. Please, baby, I'm willing to give you my all. I'm just. I'm just asking for something in return, even though I know I shouldn't, I - ' Ralph turns on him, and Jack thinks he'll strike him. Hopes he'll strike him. Instead, he pulls him into a hard kiss, fingers in his hair and back on the door. Jack barely has time to kiss back before he's pushed away, and Ralph wipes his mouth on his hand, silent as he turns back around and pulls open the door enough to slip through and leave him alone, dazed and far away.

Then, his phone buzzes, shaking him out of his reverie.


	5. there is more than one good way to drown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was supposed to be 10k but I uhhh couldn’t do it so have a 5k instead
> 
> also the jalph is Soft but do not be fooled it is still more toxic than Britney Jean Spear's 2003 Hit Toxic From Her Fourth Album In The Zone

Getting back to the room after that moment with Jack on the balcony, Rakph immediately goes to bed, drawing the covers over his head and screwing his eyes shut. He would feel better after sleeping.

But Ralph doesn’t sleep the entire night, staring up at the ceiling, his fists curled in the blanket, his lips still burning.

He was furious with himself, furious with Jack for seeming so sincere.

Sighing loudly, he runs his hands down his face, letting a muffled curse as he blinks back frustrated tears.

In the heat of the moment, when he had kissed him, he had rationalized that it was for closure. One last kiss before he quit him.

But it was like he was a fucking junkie, and that kiss was just another fucking hit.  
And he wanted another.

 

Around two in the morning, the mattress dips beside him, and he squints into the darkness.

'Couldn't sleep,' Comes Simon's small, timid explanation, as the covers rustle and shift as the other boy settles. His cheek rests on his chest, and Ralph _knows_ he can hear the slamming of his heart. He remembers what he said to Jack the night before. Or, more accurately, what he left unsaid.

Simon's fingers slide through his, and Ralph freezes, turning his face into his hair.

'Can we talk?'

'About what?'

'About yesterday.'

'Oh. Okay?' He murmurs, and Simon's other hand drifts over his chest.

'We almost kissed, Ralph. And I really hate that it was _almost,_ ' His voice is vulnerable, and hopeful and more sincere than anything he's heard in a while, and he can’t help but compare him with Jack. Even in their best moments, he was never like this. 'I really like you, and I have for a while now.'

'And what do you mean by a while?'

'Uh... Since fifth year.'

'Two years? And you didn’t... Jesus, Si. If I had known...'

'You what? Would've left Jack?' Ralph quiets, because even though he knows that his relationship wasn’t healthy, as soon as the opportunity came around, he would be back with Jack. Simon sighs and pulls him closer, and Ralph knows he knows it, too.

'Just don't... Don't dwell on what could've been. Maybe - maybe we can just? Go from here?' Ralph smiles into the darkness, and rests his cheek on the top of his head.

'I'd like that.' Simon lifts his face to look at him, and his hand presses to his cheek.

'Can I... Can I kiss you?' Ralph hums in assent, and Simon leans up carefully, pressing their lips together.

It's as much as a lapse of judgement as the kiss from the night before was, but Ralph shuts all guilt out and presses his hand across the back of Simon's neck, pulling him down and kissing him harder.

When his hand goes to his waist, he knows he'll regret it, but Simon immediately responds to the touch, climbing over him and grabbing at his hair.

'Will Charlie wake up?' Ralph whispers, and Simon hums, hips pressing back against his.

'If he does, it won't matter. Why should we hide?'

 

In the grey of the morning, Ralph watches Simon sleep, thoughts on Jack and everything that has gotten them here. He checks the time on his phone, then gently shakes the other boy awake.

'Si, I wanna go... I wanna set things right.' Simon hums and rolls away, and he quickly kisses his cheek, rubbing his back, 'Thank you for tonight. But I love Jack, all his shiftiness included.'

He climbs from bed, leaving Simon to go back to sleep. He probably didn't register anything he said, but it didn't matter at the moment. He slides out of bed, gets dressed, and digs in the pocket of yesterday's jeans to find the Head Boy pin.

 

-xXx-

 

Jack is sitting on the curb outside of the hotel when his name is said, softly and sternly. He jumps, stubbing out his cigarette when he looks over his shoulder, finding Headmaster Sheridan standing over him.

'Headmaster.'

'Come with me, please.' She says, thin lips pursed. Reluctantly, he stands and follows her into the hotel, then into her room. He remains silent for the entire walk, but when she motions for him to sit across from her, he bites his lip and rubs his hands over his thighs.

'Look, I wasn't doing anything wrong. My father knows I smoke, and the hotel rules just say - '

'We're able to get access to the cameras on the school grounds.' Jack's heart drops to his stomach, and he looks away quickly. He expects the police force to burst into the room and drag him into a car back to an actual city with an actual jail, and  _Oh fuck,_ what would Ralph think? Thank God he probably wasn't up yet. He didn't need to see any of that. 'And, while we're trying to get an identification on any possible perpetrators, I see that there's no reason why you shouldn't have your old position back.

'What?' Jack blinks, then realizes that he still has time to organize a way out for himself.

'I've decided to put you back in the position of Head Boy.'

'B-but... Ralph?' Sheridan's lips tighten and she sighs, pulling the pin from her pantsuit pocket and setting it on the table between them.

'Admittedly, your... _friend_ came in bright and early and had many words about this switch of positions,' She says it like she wasn't planning on telling him, 'If he hadn't explained his opinion, and demanded... I wouldn't have even thought about giving you the position again.' Jack stops listening to her, smiling to himself when he imagines the sight - Ralph, barging in on the bitch when she was sleeping and demanding to set things right. He wanted to find him, pull him close, and just forget about all this bullshit.

'Thank you, Headmaster.' Sheridan sits back in her chair and nods when he carefully picks up the pin and puts it in his pocket. 'I promised my father I'd call him soon. I should - ' He stands, points his thumb to the door, then backs out with his eyes to the floor.

 

The lift takes too long to arrive, so Jack uses the stairs, taking them two at a time until he gets to Ralph's floor, knocking loudly on the door.

Simon answers, mid-laugh, then stopping quickly when their eyes meet.

'Merridew,' He says, unimpressed, and Piggy comes up behind him, further blocking the door.

'What do you want?'

'Um. Is Ralph here? I want to talk to him.' Over Simon's shoulder, Ralph appears, biting his lip, eyes going to his lapel. Brows furrowing when he finds it bare.

'Si, I'll be fine.'

'I thought you were done with him.'

'Just - let me by.' The smaller boy reluctantly steps aside enough for Ralph to worm out into the hall, but the two remain in the doorway, watching them. Jack takes his hand, pinky hooking around pinky, ignoring it when someone clears his throat. He steps closer, bending his head to speak in his ear.

'Thank you. For what you did.'

'Are you...?'

'Yeah. I...' He quiets, brushing his hair from his face, 'I'm thinking of taking a day or two off, going into the city. You wanna come?' Ralph looks up at him, biting his lip.

'How?'

'Roger has a car, I can ask him to ask his parents to bring it. No promises but,' He smiles, hopefully, 'I think it'd be nice to get away from all this fire business. Just the two of us.' Ralph looks up to him, smiles broadly.

'Really?'

'Yeah. And - and if he can't get the car, we can take a shuttle. I have the money.' Ralph laughs nervously, taking his face in his hand and lifting up to kiss him briefly.

'Okay.'

'Ralph,' Piggy says sharply, 'Can we speak to you?' He's pulled back into the hotel room, and the door closes tightly. Immediately, Jack presses his ear to the door, frowning deeply.

'Are you daft?' Says Piggy, 'He obviously knows that the police are getting closer to the end of the investigation, and he knows he's gonna get caught.'

'Char, I don't want to hear your conspiracies right now.'

'I think he's right, Ralph. He - he could be responsible for a lot of deaths. _Peter's_ death. He could be responsible for all of this fucked up shit! After what you told me about the cameras, it's just too strange to be a coincidence that he wants to get out of town right now.'

'Can't you guys just let me be happy?'

'You promised, Ralph!' Simon's voice goes high, and Ralph sighs, loudly.

'Just because - ' His voice drops to a whisper that Jack can't make out, 'Okay? It was one night. This could be - this could be the rest of my life. I - you know how I feel about him, Si. Just... Just let me be selfish for one more time.' The room is silent, then Ralph sighs again. 'I'll see you around.'

The door opens, and Jack steps back quickly. Ralph looks up at him, gives him a small, tearful smile.

'Wanna go down to my room?'

 

In the lift, Ralph doesn't let go of his hand. Jack knows he's watching him from the corner of his eye, and he looks back at him, smiling softly. Ralph glances for a moment, then looks away, then turns and pushes his face into his neck.

'Did you hear any of that?'

'Yeah,'

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be,' Jack whispers, sliding his fingers through his hair, 'Forget them. I'm all you need. You're all I need.' Ralph nods faintly and shifts, fingers drifting over his spine. 'I meant what I said last night, love.'

'You're...' Ralph murmurs a whole sentence, but the first word is all Jack makes out.

Jack cranes his neck to kiss his forehead, then draws back when the lift doors pull open, but he doesn’t let go of Ralph's hand, pulling him out into the hall and pulling him in close, fingers following the curve of his ear, thumb rubbing over his earlobe.

'How about we take this into somewhere more private, beautiful,' He murmurs, and Ralph smiles up at him, and  _Jesus fuck_ he never thought he'd see that smile again.

'Okay,'

 

Ralph is giggling, giddy, when Jack pushes him up against the door of his room. He reaches up, sinking his fingers into his hair and pulling him into a kiss. He can't stop smiling though, so Jack bites his lip and pushes his shirt up his stomach.

'I love you,' He whispers, and Ralph hums, pulling at his hair.

'I love you, too,' He says, and Jack shifts to push his nose into his neck. He says it louder, hoping that Roger was in the room and he was hearing this.

'I love you so much, baby boy. Never leave me again,'

'I won't.' Jack reaches down and unlocks the door, wrapping an arm around Ralph's waist to hold him up as he opens the door. He glances up, feeling a stab of disappointment when he finds the room empty. He lets Ralph up, watching him walk slowly to one of the beds, running his hand over the edge of the mattress and smiling over his shoulder as he lowers himself onto the bed, stretching and dropping back onto the pillows. He holds a hand out to Jack, waits for him to climb on top of him and push his wrists to the mattress to bend up under him and smile, watching him through his lashes.

'Can we just... I feel so disconnected from you, and I want to familiarize myself again. I just wanna lie here for a bit, with our clothes off. And just... Exist for a bit. Okay? No meaningless sex, no hiding. No fighting. Just. Us.'

'Okay,' Jack kisses him, forces himself to be gentle as he slides his hands up his waist, pulling his shirt off slowly. Ralph nods and rests his nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply.

  
Once they've stripped each other to their briefs, Jack sits back to admire him, tracing his finger over the moles scattering his torso. He dips his finger down over his navel, and Ralph breathes out sharply through his nose, and closes his eyes, biting his lip.

'Just so you know,' Jack whispers, bending down to kiss the mole just under his collarbone, 'I never thought anything between us was meaningless. Even... even little moments like nights in or... or the way you smile, or the way your nose wrinkles when you laugh.' Ralph's hand rests against the back of his neck and he smiles softly.

'My nose wrinkles?' Already, his hand lifts to cover it, and Jack quickly grabs his wrist, kissing his fingertips.

'Yeah. I love it,' Ralph bites his lip, lifts his chin.

'Tell me more,'

'Well. Hm. I love,' He considers him for a moment - it was harder than it seemed to pick out little details of Ralph's appearance that made the bigger picture all the better, 'This little scar on your forehead, right here. Your moles. How expressive your eyes are - fuck, baby, your eyes are so pretty. And... and your bad habits. I fucking adore all your bad habits, I think you should have more.' Ralph laughs quietly, nose sliding along his cheekbone.

'You're such a sap,'

'I have more, y'know. I can pinpoint the exact moment where I realized that I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.' He visibly perks up at that.

'Oh? Do tell.'

'It was a year ago. We were in the common room, and we weren't even doing anything... risqué. We were studying for exams, and you were sitting with your friends, and I was sitting with mine. Remember? We kept looking at each other, smiling.' Ralph is silent, still, 'I remember. You smiled like we were the greatest secret you could keep, and you were so proud of having me,' Finally moving, Ralph runs his hand up his back and rests his cheek on his shoulder, 'And there was this one little moment where I looked over at you, but you weren't looking at me, and you were reading your textbook. You were chewing the end of your pencil, and there was the most adorable crease right here,' He taps between his brows, 'And then you looked up at me. And smiled. And that smile was different from any other I'd seen from you. And I realized that... I loved you, and maybe, just maybe, you loved me too.' Ralph's silence lasts a little while longer, then he kisses his shoulder, thumb rubbing over the curve.

'I did. I do. And I can't believe you've loved me for a year and you're just now saying something. Do you realize how much shit we could've avoided?' Ralph's voice is tender, loving.

'I know. Baby, I know.' He kisses his temple and rolls onto his side, taking his hand. 'But I've said it now, and I promise that I won't stop saying it.'

'Okay,'

'I love you,' Ralph pulls back and smiles at him, clearly hazy with sleep.

'I love you, too. Is it okay if I have a quick nap?'

'Of course.' Jack rolls onto his back and pulls the covers over the two of them as Ralph settles onto his chest, ear over his heart.

'Mine,' He whispers, and Jack nods, nose pushing into his hair,

'Yours.'

 

When he's sure Ralph is asleep, he pulls back to look at his sleeping face. His thumb smooths over the curve of his face and he thinks about taking Ralph away from all of this. He doesn't feel any guilt for seperating him from his friends. In fact, his friends were the sole reason he had to leave. Especially Piggy. He frowns, but kisses Ralph's forehead. The blond hums in his sleep, turning his face towards his, and Jack picks his phone up from the bedside table, careful not to move too much.

The phone is answered after one ring, and he speaks as soon as it’s picked up.

'I need you to do something for me.'

 

-xXx-

 

Ralph is woken when Jack heaves a sigh, and he blinks up at him, pushing his cheek into his chest.

'Hey,' He murmurs around a yawn, and Jack jumps, eyes going to his almost guiltily.

'Did I wake you?' Ralph nods, kissing his chest.

'It's alright.' Jack's arm tightens around his waist and he locks his phone, tucking it under him. Ralph traces a line down his sternum and watches his chest rise with each breath, feeling his heart beat beneath his cheek, 'You could've gotten dressed, y'know.'

'I didn’t want to wake you up. Well. Earlier than I already have.' Ralph smiles and wraps his arms around him, humming when Jack's other hand runs over the back of his neck.

'You're sweet,' Jack kisses his forehead and drags his hand down over the curve of his shoulder, 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.' When Jack says it without hesitation, a burst of warmth fills his chest. He rolls over onto his back and wraps his arms around Jack's neck, pulling him close and hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

'So what did you do while I was asleep?'

'Oh um. Nothing much. I just... Arranged some things.'

 

-xXx-

 

Roger stares down at his phone in dismay, reading Jack's most recent set of messages over and over.

The first thing he asked? No problem. He could get a car from his cousin, free of charge, no questions asked, within the next day.

But the second thing? He felt sick just thinking about it.

Chewing on his nail, he stands from his spot on Maurice's bed, causing the other boy to look up.

'I gotta go.'

 

He calls his cousin as he goes, taking the stairs. His phone is trapped between his shoulder and his ear as he forces himself to take the steps one at a time.

'Can you get down here today? It's just - it's just important that I get the car soon.' Pushing the door of the second floor open, he sinks into the sofa by the lift and pulls up his contacts.

**Hey. It's Ralph. I forgot my phone, using Roger's.  
          Can we talk? Meet me in the library.**

Moments later, the door opens and Piggy and Simon walk out, and he scrambles to crouch behind the sofa.

'He's got another thing coming if he thinks we're gonna forgive him after what he pulled earlier.' Simon snaps, and Roger hurries to text again.

**Don't bring Simon. Just us, alright?**

Piggy's phone chimes and Simon makes a horrified noise.

'That asshole! He has _no_ fucking right - '

'I think you should stay in the room,' Piggy says gently, and Simon sighs.

'Fine. But make sure he doesn't - '

'I'll take care of things, Simon. Don't worry.'

 

Roger waits on the sofa for twenty minutes, then knocks on the door. Simon opens like he has been waiting, then blinks up at him in surprise.

'Roger?'

'Can we talk? About the other day? I feel bad that I was so insensitive.'

'Oh. Um. You were fine? Um. It's just - look. Roger. Now isn’t the best time.'

'I'll be quick.'

 

Five minutes later, he leaves the room with a heavy heart and a heavier pocket, Simon's phone buzzing against his thigh.

 

-xXx-

 

Jack doesn't remember falling asleep, but the sun is setting when he wakes up to Ralph rolling away from him in his sleep.

He groans and stretches, reaching across Ralph to turn on the lamp by the bed. His hand drops to the bedside table and he buries his face in Ralph's neck.

His phone buzzes and he opens an eye to check the text.

 **It's done**.

He grins, kissing Ralph's jaw and gently rubbing his arm.

'Hey baby,' Ralph hums, turns into him, 'It's time to get up, love.'

'Fuck off. Lemme sleep.'

'I'm gonna order some food. Need to shower, too,' Another hum, and Jack runs his fingers over his temple, tucking his hair behind his ear, 'Join me?'

 

Under the hot spray of the shower, Ralph presses lazy kisses along his jaw, arms wrapped around his neck. Jack had hoped that they would've done more than this, but he doesn't mind it when Ralph pulls him with him as he leans against the tile, tilting his head back.

He certainly doesn’t mind it when he finds that one spot under his ear that drives him crazy, drawing soft moans from him as he rubs the heel of his hand over him.

'Jack, love,' He whispers, and Jack hums, 'I'm tired, babe. Just do what you need to do.' Jack cradles his head close and kisses the spot once more, letting him lean against his chest while he washes his hair, occasionally kissing the top of his head.

'I love you,' He whispers again, and Ralph hums, arms wrapping around his waist.

 

Stepping out of the shower, Jack lifts Ralph onto the edge of the counter by the sink, kissing his Adam's apple. Ralph towels his hair dry for him, then drapes the towel over his shoulders.

'Carry me?' He asks, like a small child, and Jack nods, waiting for him to wrap his legs around his waist.

'You're such a brat, y’know that? Especially when you're tired.' Ralph hums and slings his arms over his shoulders, nose in his neck. Jack stumbles under his weight and shifts his grip, kissing his temple.

Out in the main room, he lowers Ralph onto a bed and kisses his knee.

'What do you want to eat?' He asks, pulling on a pair of briefs. Ralph shrugs and moves back onto the pillows, watching him through his lashes.

'Pizza?' Jack nods, climbing into bed next to him, running his fingers through his hair and smiling softly when Ralph's head rests on his chest. His fingers catch over one wrist, but he lets him pull out his phone, call room service.

 

'What's Roger texting you about?' Ralph's more awake now, buried under the blankets. He scrolls through the notification page idly. Jack stops and looks over, 'What's done?'

'Oh. I asked him to get me some weed from Maurice.' Ralph scrunches his nose and puts his phone down on the bedside table.

'He left a couple voicemails. Should I play them?'

'Nah. I'll listen to them later.' Jack pulls his hoodie on, zipping it up and wandering over to pocket his phone casually, kissing Ralph's forehead.

'You wanna get dressed? The room service should be here soon.'

'Why? It's not like they haven’t seen naked people before.'

'Yeah, but you're the one who's naked. You know I don't like it when other people look at you.' Jack thinks back to the other day, when Ralph had smiled up at Robert like he had. He knew he had did it to get under his skin, but he had to admit it felt good when his knuckles collided with the asshole's cheekbone. Ralph sighs and slides from bed, hand going to the front of his briefs.

'Possessive asshole,' Ralph murmurs, lifting his chin, their noses brushing. Jack brushes his hair behind his ear, then nips at his bottom lip.

'You love it.' He whispers as Ralph yelps, stepping away.

'Wish I didn't, prick.' Ralph pulls his sweatpants on, rolling the pant legs up so he can walk. He settles back onto the bed when someone knocks on the door, and their food is brought into their room.

 

When Ralph takes a picture of him, he usually would've made him delete it. But instead, he leans across the bed to rest his forehead on his shoulder.

'Where're you posting it?'

'My story. Don't worry, you look cute.' Jack glances at his phone, watching him type in a quick caption and add it to his Snapchat story before tucking his phone into his pocket. Good. He would need an alibi for tonight.

He reaches across and takes his chin in his hand, turning his face to him.

'I love you.' Ralph smiles, mouth full of pizza. He brushes his hand down Jack's cheek and hums in reply. 'Can I ask you something?' Ralph mumbles an affirmative, and Jack takes his hand, squeezing tightly. 'I need to know that no matter what happens, I won't lose you.' Ralph takes a moment to swallow his mouthful, eyes round.

'What did you do?'

'Wh - nothing! It's just - you know me. I'm a piece of shit - '

'No you're not - '

' - and I know that I'll probably do something shitty and/or illegal in the future, near or not-so-near. I just need to know that - '

'I'm all in, baby.' He says it without hesitation.

'But what if I, like - '

'I mean it. I love you - every single bit of you. No matter... no matter any shitty decisions you make, I won't leave unless you want me to.' Jack pushes his fringe back from his forehead and kisses between his brows, other hand going under his chin.

'Promise me,'

'Pinky promise.' Jack snorts when Ralph links their pinkies together. He pulls back, bites at his lip. Ralph shifts, then joins their hands, clasping his tightly, palm to palm. He brings them over his heart, other hand clamping over the back of his hand.

'I promise that you will never, ever lose me again. I will stay by your side no matter what you do and no matter what happens. I'll stay until you don't want me to, and even then, you still have my entire heart. I promise.'

'Fuck,' Jack whispers, biting his lip, 'Fuck, why is that so hot? Fuck, baby, I really wanna - ' Ralph's hand braces across the back of his neck, and he pulls him in a kiss, cutting his words off. He brings his zipper down and pushes his hoodie down off his arms. They break apart, and he smiles softly, pushing the box of half-eaten pizza away.

'Fuck me, Jack. No - make love to me.'

'Intense.' Jack murmurs, but doesn't object. Instead, he brings him up close, biting his collarbone harshly and making him squeak in surprise, fist pressing against the base of his neck.

 

At some point, they had rolled over, and Ralph now lies sprawled on top of Jack, his fingers gliding in senseless patterns across his clavicle.

'Love you,' Ralph murmurs distantly, and Jack hums, brushing his lips over his temple, 'Fuck. I just love how that sounds. Love you. It's so - fuck. So nice. Fitting. Sweet. You're sweet - I'm lucky to have you, y’know? Fuck Simon. Fuck Charles. You're not an - you're not what they say you are. You can't be. You're too good. You pretend not to be, but I see right through you, Jack Merridew. Right fucking through you.' Jack smiles into his hair, looks down at him in adoration.

'You're babbling, sweetness.' Ralph lets out a shaky breath, blinking hard.

'I just - love you.'

'I know, baby. I know,' Jack rests his cheek in his hair, and for the first time he truly wishes he didn't start the fire, let Ralph and him flourish in somewhere better than this, better than that school. Waited a year, only a year, taken him away from everything just because he could. Not because he had to.

Not because he risked everything just to be petty. Not because he ruined everything, even if he was never caught.

He wishes that he could take it all back, and wait a year, maybe two, and start his life over with Ralph. He swallows hard, and takes his hands in his.

'Can I ask you something else?'

'Baby, you don't need to affirm our relationship every other minute. I told you, I - '

'Marry me.'

 

-xXx-

 

Roger slams his back into the cold metal of a Dumpster, chest heaving. He sinks to the ground and as soon as he catches his breath, the weight of what he's done sinks onto his shoulders.

He slaps his hand over his mouth and takes a look at Simon's phone, hurriedly deleting all the messages faked that night, then dropping it onto the pavement.

'Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. Shit - goddamn - bitchsacks - ' Though his hands shaking so hard he can barely unlock his phone, he brings it to his ear, ' - Pick up, please pick up, fuck.'

The pleasant tone of an automated voicemail comes through, and he near throws his phone across the alley.

'Please call me back, Merridew, I - fuck.'

On the second voicemail he leaves he is slightly more eloquent. Slightly.

'I did it. I know I texted earlier that I did, but - but - but I didn't want you to worry about it, so I just - fuck, I don't think I can handle this, I just - ' He clenches his fist, wonders how he's going to get rid of the knife, still sticky and covered in clear evidence of his crimes, ' - Bloody hell, Jack! Do you realize how fucked up this is? I wanna - I wanna go to the police. I won't tell anyone about your involvement, but I don't think I can live with myself,' Roger hits his head against the Dumpster, screwing his eyes shut, 'I can't believe I'm so pathetic that I went to that length for you.' He whispers, brokenly, pressing the edge of the phone to his forehead. A choked groan rises from his throat as he hangs up, and he balls up his other fist, pushing it to his mouth.

He knew he would have to collect himself and clean everything up, hide evidence and return Simon's phone before he misses it, if he hasn't already. He wouldn't go to the police, he knew it. Jack knew it, if he ever listened to the voicemail. But right now, the memory of it all is burned behind his eyelids, too fresh, too raw.

At his feet, a phone buzzes, but when he looks, it's Simon's phone. A text. From...

I'm driving, so I've got this queued to send when I'm about five minutes away. Ralph was a no show earlier at the library, and again at dinner. Big surprise. I have some leftovers for you. x.

He covers his face with his hands again and lets out a long, low groan, nails pressing into his forehead.

'Fuck,' He whispers to himself, gathering the willpower to stand up. After a quick Google, he dials, and squeezes his eyes shut, steeling himself as the phone rings. 'U-um, yes. Hello. I-I need to report a body.'

 

-xXx-

 

Ralph stares down at Jack, unblinking. He bites his lip and averts his gaze, feeling small under the intense hopefulness of his gaze, his question.

'Jack - '

'I'm not gonna hold you to it. I know that we're young, and that anything could happen, but - I'm sure about this, baby. About us. I’ve never been so sure about anything before,' Jack takes his face in his hands, 'Look at me. I love you, don't you see that? And you love me, why shouldn't we?

'We aren't even finished school,'

'It wouldn’t be official. It could, eventually. But I just - ' Jack turns his chin up, and kisses him softly. ' - Please, Ralph.' Ralph's eyes flick to his, and he expects to feel a stab of guilt. Instead, he moves closer, and Jack leans forward, biting his lip and smiling in anticipation. Ralph brushes his nose down the length of Jack's, and he takes one of his hands.

'Okay,' He laughs nervously, 'Okay. Yeah. That sounds - that sounds amazing. Incredible. Yes. I will.'

'Say it,' Jack murmurs to his cheek, 'It feels great, try it.'

'I'll ma - ' There is a loud, rapid knock on the door, and Ralph barely has time to roll off of Jack before Roger opens the door, and Simon is barrelling into him, sobbing hard.

'Si - fuck, is this about what I said earlier? I didn't - ' Simon lets out a choked noise and pushes his face into his neck, the action too similar to the night before to be comfortable. His face is wet, and Ralph can tell he's hyperventilating. 'Breathe, Si. Breathe.'

'It's not - It's not that. It's - ' Simon actually wails and pulls him closer, and Jack moves beside him, looking over at Roger, then at his phone. Roger nods, once.

'You two should get dressed.' He whispers to Jack. Ralph turns back to Simon, brushing his hair from his forehead gently.

'What is it?' He urges softly, and Simon shakes his head, resting his cheek on his shoulder.

'It's Charles.'


	6. i miss the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the chapter that i started writing the fic for and uhhhhh  
> i lub

They take a police cruiser to the hospital across town. Jack seems on edge the whole ride there, but everything hasn't really set in with Ralph. He knew the facts - Charlie, found in an alley, throat torn and blood staining the asphalt, barely breathing. But he didn't understand the weight of it all, not yet.

And he doesn't want to.

He clings to Jack's hand, and guilt claws at his throat. Not about Peter, not about Charlie, but about Simon. He wants to tell Jack, should tell Jack. Now wasn't the right time, especially with Simon on his other side, still crying, head on his shoulder. But the words sit there, right on the tip of his tongue, and he's terrified someone will talk to him, and he'll just blurt it out.  _I took advantage of my best friend, and then not even two hours later told him that I didn't mean anything I said, and literally that same day our other best friend very well might die._

'How did you find him?' Jack croaks, addressing the officer in the driver's seat.

'An anonymous call. Some kid, sounded real cool about it - shame it was anonymous. Probably the perp.' Jack glances across the car, frowns, then squeezes Ralph's hand, leans in close.

'Are you alright?' He whispers, and Ralph nods once, silent, 'We can talk, you know. Because I know you're not.' He kisses his temple, and Simon stiffens beside him.

'Okay,' He manages, and Jack rubs the back of his hand.

'I love you.' Simon's hand brushes over his wrist, and Ralph shifts away.

'You, too.'

 

Ralph stares down at Charlie's supine body, limp and practically lifeless in the hospital bed. There's thick gauze around his throat, and a tube in his mouth. A machine breathes for him. Simon grabs his hand. He lets him.

'It was Jack.' He whispers, and Ralph sighs, squeezing his eyes shut.

'Please not now, Simon.'

'It doesn't make sense! He's on his case this whole fucking week, and all of a sudden he... He turns up like this.'

'He was with me all night.'

'Are you sure? You didn't fall asleep? You're a pretty heavy sleeper, when you're left alone for a bit.' Ralph falters, then frowns, hard, opens his eyes. He turns to look at him, doing his best impression of Jack.

'Just stop, Simon. This is pathetic. I know you're jealous of us, but that doesn't make Jack a murderer. Or an arsonist. Just accept the fact that I love Jack more than I could ever love you.' The hurt that claims Simon's features makes it easy for Ralph to pull his hand free and turn away from Charlie, but it doesn't make it easy to stifle the guilt, or blink away the hot tears.

  
Jack is sitting out in the hallway, back bent, head hung. He looks exhausted. Two cups of coffee sit at his feet.

'Hi.' Ralph whispers, and he looks up quickly.

'Hey. Um. Is it bad?'

'Yeah.' The tears fall, and Ralph looks up at the ceiling, setting his jaw. 'I - Simon and I fucked. Last night.' He can barely get it out, hands curling at his sides. Jack is silent, and he blinks hard. He can't even imagine the look on his face. 'It didn't mean anything. He just - was there, and, and, and we almost kissed earlier, and I was so  _upset_ about you - not that it's your fault, it isn't, it's mine, and I...' He covers his mouth with his hand and quickly sits, staring at his shoes.

'Look at me,' Jack says softly. Ralph doesn't move. 'Baby. Please. Just - ' He pulls his hand away from his mouth, then turns his chin towards him. 'I'm not angry. Look. I'm not. I don't care - if it didn't mean anything, it didn't mean anything.'

'I'm losing everyone.' Ralph whimpers.

'Not everyone.'

'If...  _When_  Charlie wakes up, he'll take Simon's side. He always does. I don't blame him, either. Fuck, Jack, I fucked up. I fucked up really bad.' He buries his face in his hands again, sighing. Jack kisses his ear.

'Hey, no. You have me, still. You won't lose me, ever. Remember? Unofficial marriages are pretty fucking serious in my book.' Ralph doesn't look at him, but takes his hand, pushing the other through his hair. Jack leans in, kisses his shoulder.

  
'Ralph Gornick?' Ralph looks up to find an officer, standing by Charlie's door. Simon hangs behind him - he hadn't even noticed that he had left the room. He looks back to the officer when Jack squeezes his hand. 'I'm going to ask you to come with me.' Ralph turns to Jack, kissing him quickly.

'I'll be back. Okay? Don't worry.' Jack nods, eyes round as he lets go of his hands. He looks between the other three as Ralph tucks his phone into his pocket, following the officer, taking care to avoid touching Simon when he passes him.

 

'Surely, you understand where I'm coming from. Your... Friend - ' The lead detective - Ralph had seen him around the hotel before, talking to Headmaster Sheridan in hushed tones - sits across him, file open in front of him.

'Boyfriend.'

'Boyfriend, excuse me. Your boyfriend is one of the prime suspects in the Savanna case, so you'd see the concern that these cases are connected. Charles Irwin is known to be... Very outspoken about his theories, and it really is very suspicious that this happened to him, right when we're nearing the end of the arson case.'

'But Jack was with me the whole night.'

'And you have someone else who can attest to that? A third party?'

'No,' His phone chimes in his back pocket, and he blinks, 'But um. I have proof. I do.' The detective leans back in the chair, and Ralph scrambles to unlock his phone, going into his Snapchat story. He pushes the phone across the table, and the man stares down at the picture of Jack, mouth full of pizza. The officer who took him into the tiny little office leans over, then squints at the time.

'22:43. When was Irwin found?'

'22:58. And the hotel's across town.' He frowns, then looks up at Ralph again, 'Does Merridew have any friends that he could've contacted? Close ones, willing to...'

'Not that I know of. Sure, he has a couple of really close buddies, but um. I don't think they'd be able to - especially to a classmate. Not that they would. To a stranger.'

'Could we have some names?'

Ralph slowly lists off Jack's friends - _his_ friends - feeling worse with each name. When he says Roger's name, the men look at each other, and the detective makes a note, and he looks away, slowly trailing off.

'Um. That's. That's it,' He whispers, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve, 'They're all good people, they wouldn't do something like this. They all know Charlie, they all like him.'

'Really? Your Headmaster said he only really has two friends. That everyone else, and excuse my bluntness, only really tolerated him.' Ralph's face heats.

'But they wouldn't - none of them would - ' He stops, looks away, because he can't stop thinking about the note the man made when he said Roger's name. 'Charlie might be overbearing, and opinionated, but that doesn't give his  _classmates_ a reason to... To try and slit his throat.' His voice cracks when he finally says what's happened aloud, and the detective leans back in the chair again, looking back at the officer. He motions, then whispers in his ear. 'I don't know anyone who would be capable of it.'

The detective hums and turns a page in his file, tapping Roger's school picture.

'Are you sure? I'm sure you're not aware of Mr. Grimmlay's past, then.'

 

'I think we're done here. Thank you.'

Ralph nods once, spent and numb, tears clinging to the edge of his nostrils, his upper lip. He stands so quickly that the chair wobbles before righting itself, and swallows thickly, not trusting his voice as he hurries 

He walks down the halls briskly, wiping at his cheeks with his palm. He's about to round the corner when Jack's voice reaches him, and he stops in his tracks.

'Jesus, fuck, Rodge. How the hell could you fuck up that badly?'

'I know. I know, I'm... Fuck. I didn't mean what I said, you know that, right? I didn't. I won't tell. Promise.'

'I don't care! I - fuck, I already have them on my case for everything else, I don't _need_ this. Just that you even thought about it is the issue. The fact that you fucking called is the goddamn issue! I trusted you to take care of this!'

'I'm sorry,' Ralph doesn't have to look to know that Roger has shrunk in on himself.

'And I can't even trust you to go in and fucking finish the job, which means I'm risking even more by doing it myself.'

'Jack, I - '

'Just go.' Jack's voice is tight, and Roger's footsteps are slow, coming towards him.

Even with the slow pace, Ralph still doesn't have time to hide before they're face to face. Roger's eyes go round, and he steps back, hand going over his stomach.

'Hey.' Ralph says softly, and Roger nods, pushing past him with his eyes trained to the linoleum. Ralph waits a few minutes, then rounds the corner. Jack looks up, gives him a tired smile.

'How'd it go?'

'It was shit.'

'What did they say?' Jack opens his arms, and Ralph doesn't think twice before stepping into the offered hug, even though he can still feel the strain of anger in his muscles. 'You can tell me, baby. It's okay.'

'They think you had something to do with what happened to Charlie.' Ralph says with a laugh, and Jack sighs, and kisses his temple.

'Don't worry about what they have to say about me. Okay? You know that I didn't, you know the truth, so that's what matters,' Ralph nods, and Jack rubs his back briefly, 'We're what matter.'

'We're what matter,' He parrots softly.

 

-xXx-

 

Jack suspects that Roger was hanging around in the shadows. As soon as the police officer takes Ralph down the hall, to whatever doctor's office they've taken over for the night, he sits down beside him.

'Did you listen to my voicemail?' He asks quietly, already shameful.

'Haven't the chance.'

'Don't.' Jack looks at him, lingering when he doesn’t look back. He frowns, then pulls his phone from his pocket, never looking away as he unlocks it and pulls the voicemail up.

 _'I did it.'_ Jack can hear the desperation in his tone. A cornered animal. Now, Roger's eyes dart around the space, looking anywhere but him. _'I know I texted earlier that I did, but - but - but I didn't want you to worry about it, so I just - fuck, I don't think I can handle this! I just - bloody hell, Jack! Do you realize how fucked up this is? I wanna - I wanna go to the police. I won't tell an-'_ The click of his phone locking cuts his voice off, and the hall is silent. Roger has settled on staring at his shoes. Jack slowly puts his phone away, the anger that has simmered away since the knock on the door starts to boil over.

'Were you the one who called the cops?' Roger is silent. 'Answer me, Roger.'

'Yes.' He says, voice barely above a whisper. Jack scoffs and looks away, running his hands down his face.

'Fuck. Fucking hell. Are you an idiot? Are you trying to get me caught? Do you know what Ralph's doing right now? He's getting questioned by the goddamned fucking police, because I'm pretty fucking sure they're on to me already - and they're gonna see the link between the fucking school and Piggy showing up half dead! You couldn’t even - what the fuck, Roger!'

'They don't know that I called it in.'

'Which makes it worse! I had plans, Roger. Plans. I was gonna get outta here, gonna get off scotch free. Sure, it was already risky, leaving when they’re so close to cracking this shit, but now? There's no way. I can't.' Silence stretches, and Jack stands, prepared to storm away before he stops. Why should he be the one who leaves? 'Jesus, fuck, Rodge. How the hell could you fuck up that badly?'

'I know. I know, I'm... Fuck. I didn't mean what I said, you know that, right? I didn't. I won't tell. Promise.'

'I don't care! I - fuck, I already have them on my case for everything else, I don't need this. Just that you even thought about it is the issue. The fact that you fucking called is the goddamn issue! I trusted you to take care of this!'

'I'm sorry,'

'And I can't even trust you to go in and fucking finish the job, which means I'm risking even more by doing it myself.'

'Jack, I - '

'Just go.' He pinches the crooked bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. Roger slowly stands and walks away, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Moments later, Ralph rounds the corner, looking troubled, and Jack hopes he didn't overhead too much. He looks up and gives him a tired smile.

'How'd it go?' _How much shit about me did they drudge up? How much do you know about me, now? How ruined are we?_

'It was shit.' Ralph stops a few meters away from him, shifting awkwardly. Waiting for a signal, Jack realizes. He opens his arms.

'What did they say?' His hand braces the curve of his skull as Ralph steps into his arms. 'Tell me, baby. It's okay.'

'They think you had something to do with what happened to Charlie.' Jack thinks that he tries to laugh, and he sighs, pushing his cheek into his hair, wishing he was able to take him away from all the shit that was about to go down.

'Don't worry about what they have to say about me. Okay? You know that I didn't, you know the truth, so that's what matters. We're what matter.' _No matter what happens._

'We're what matter.' Ralph repeats, like he was trying to solidify that idea in his mind. Jack grabs the back of his shirt and holds him close.

'I love you.' He whispers, not even sure if Ralph heard him.

 

'Do you know about Roger? His past?' They have sat back down, and Ralph's head is on his shoulder. They wait for Piggy's aunt to arrive, so the doctors can relay his exact condition to her so she can tell Ralph and Simon, and Jack can figure out what his next move is gonna be. He's already so wrapped up in plans that he doesn’t process Ralph's words until he nudges his shoulder and repeats the question.

'Hm? Oh. Yeah. I um. I do. Why?'

'How much of it?'

'A lot.' All of it. Roger told him the first time they got drunk together, fourth year. He was still closeted, and when Jack first brushed his hand up his side, it all came out. Who his father is, what he did to him. What he did to cope. He even told him about the restraining order a neighbourhood boy had against him.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Wasn't mine to tell. How did you find out?'

'He's another suspect. They think he did it for you, called it in because he felt bad. I don’t think it was theirs to tell, either.’

'What are they gonna do about him?'

'I saw a note in the file to get phone records.' He shrugs, and Jack's stomach drops.

Before he can say anything else, however, the quiet is broken as two doctors lead an older woman and Simon into the hall.

' - a bit touch and go in the beginning, but it steadied out after the sutures were put on. He can't breathe by himself yet, and there's no guarantee, but... I think that he'll wake up soon.'

'And will he be able to speak?'

'Um. There's no - ' Ralph stands and smooths his pants down, and the woman spots him, and pulls him into a hug. He pats her back, awkwardly and nods when she says something into his neck. They pull back, and Simon steps forward, taking his arm, leaning into Ralph. Jack tenses, noticing that Ralph does the same, seeming to be in tandem with him. Jack stands, steps up behind Ralph, and Simon lets go.

'So he'll be alright?' He asks, feigning concern. Ralph leans back into him and looks back at Simon, a range of conflicting emotions in his eyes. The doctor gives the type of noncommittal answer that doctors do, and Jack hums, kissing Ralph's temple.

'See? He's gonna be fine.' He whispers, rubbing his arm, 'He'll clear things up.'

 

They follow the doctors and Piggy's aunt back into the room, and Jack pinches the bridge of his nose.

'Does anyone have any Advil?' He asks softly, and the woman gives him a bottle of the pills, not looking at him. He pockets it subtly and rests his chin on Ralph's shoulder.

 

They all leave after a moment of looking down at Piggy's sleeping face, but Jack hangs back.

'I just wanna say something.' He says when Ralph looks back, and he smiles, closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door clicks shut, he pushes into movement, emptying the bottle of Advil into his palm, then crouching on the floor behind the bed. He needed to work fast. Crushing the pills under his shoe and gathers the dust in his hand, he stands on his tiptoes, fiddling with the IV.

Five minutes later, he slips out of the room, and smiles down at Ralph.

'All done?'

'Yeah. I'm starving.'

 

-xXx-

 

An hour after Ralph gets back from lunch with Jack, Simon finds him. Stops in front of him, edging nervously into his field of vision.

'I'm sorry.' He says softly, and Ralph forces himself to look up slowly.

'What for?'

'Pissing you off. I don't know. Making you... Hate me.'

'I don't hate you. I just. I dunno. I got overwhelmed. We shouldn't have... Done what we did.' Simon sits down quickly.

'I disagree. Um. I think that we could be really good, Ralph. Don't you think? I respect that you think you love Jack, but he's bad for you. Forget him, and just - '

'He knows.' That shuts Simon up. He stops, staring at his lap, and Ralph finally looks at him. 'And he isn't bad for me. We're good - we're  _really_ fucking good. I love him, and he loves me. I... I think that someday I wanna marry him.'

'You're barely seventeen, Ralph, that's ridiculous.'

'Age is just a number. I've never felt like this with anyone.' Simon is silent, but he can practically feel the indignation rolling off from him. 'And... And I disagree with you. About us being good. We're too close of friends.'

'Exactly! We know what makes each other tick! Does Jack even know your favorite color?'

'I don't even know my favorite color.'

'Or your Starbucks order? Or - or how you like to take your tea? How you like to read before you go to sleep? Because I do. I know every single little thing there is to know. Your relationship with Jack is - is just sex.'

'Stop.' His voice comes out softer than he means it to, but Simon does what he's told anyways. 'Please. You look desperate.'

'I am. I care so deeply for you, Ralph.'

'And I care for you. Just not in the same way. I want you to be happy. And I want to be happy. Jack makes me happy, and you'll find your happiness. And when you do, I'll be so incredibly overjoyed because _you deserve it_. But I can't be the one to make you happy.'

Simon is about to respond when there's a commotion down the hall, and a team of doctors bustle into Charlie's room. They both freeze, and stand quickly. Ralph almost sprints down the hall, but Simon grabs his wrist, forces him to walk briskly.

Charlie's aunt Clarisse is waiting outside, peering anxiously into the room, where the doctors work on Charlie. The monitor by his bed is flatlining, and Ralph's heart stops with it, leaning back into Simon.

'What's happening?' He barely registers it when Jack comes up, more coffee in his hands. He shakes his head, and Clarisse turns to him.

'I went in to go in and check him, but there was no heartbeat, and... They called a code blue, and I don't know what that means.' A cup of coffee is handed to her, and Jack pulls his phone out, shows her grimly, and she covers her mouth with her hand, a hoarse cry leaving her. Jack pulls Ralph into his arms, blocking his view.

'You don't need to see this.' He whispers, and Ralph goes slack in his arms, breathing in his familiar scent. Around them, Clarisse practically wails, and there's the sound of a curtain being drawn.

 

-xXx-

 

Roger stares down at the car keys in his hand, before curling his fingers over them, the teeth digging into his flesh. He considers the shitty car in front of him - Jack wouldn’t need it, he said so himself.

Simon said that the police were questioning everyone there for Charles, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to face them.

He only hesitates a moment before unlocking the car, throwing his bag into the backseat, and starting the engine.

When he gets on the road, he doesn’t look back.

 

* * *

 

Three months after Charlie's funeral, Ralph is woken by the incessant buzzing of a phone, the sharp ringtone cutting through the early morning. He moans and pushes his face into Jack's jumper, drawing him closer in an attempt to muffle the offending alarm.

'Get the phone,' He grumbles, and Jack grunts, reaching across him.

'H’lo?' He mumbles, rubbing Ralph's back. Ralph doesn't listen to his conversation, enjoying the feeling of Jack's fingers playing over the ridges of his spine. He pushes his face into his neck, and when Jack moves to roll out of bed, he wraps his arms around him.

'You're warm,' He whispers, and Jack kisses the top of his head.

'Gotta go, baby. I'm being summoned. Stay here - I'll be right back.' Ralph whines, but lets Jack pull his arms free. He rolls over onto his stomach, pushing his face into a pillow, and Jack pushes his shirt up to press a kiss to his spine, hand curving against his rear. 'You're so beautiful. I love you.' They has grown out of the phase of constantly staying this to each other, only really staying it if it was serious or a big event. But Ralph thinks nothing of it, murmuring it back as Jack kisses his shoulder then pulls his shirt back down. He leaves quietly, the door closing the only sign that he does.

Ralph isn't sure how much time passes, as he drifts in and out of sleep while he waits for Jack to come back, so used to his presence that he found himself unable to really fall back into the same deep sleep while alone. The room is much lighter when there's a commotion of excitement outside in the halls of the newly renovated school, and Ralph gives up on waiting for Jack. He changes into one of Jack's shirts and his own pair of jeans, not bothering with shoes.

The hall is loud, but as soon as he opens the door it quiets, and they all look at him.

'What's going on?' He asks as Simon pushes across the hall.

'Go back in. You don't need to see this.' He says quietly. They hadn't spoken since Charlie's funeral, and even then, it was a formal exchange of condolences.

'What? What's going on?'

'Just - go back into his room. It's... It's Jack.'

'What about him?' Simon looks up and grabs his arm, and Ralph follows his gaze.

Down the hall, Jack is flanked by three officers, hands behind his back. His face is hard and he stares straight ahead, at the stairwell to the front door. His steps are sure, and he doesn’t react to the crowd gathered. Until he passes Ralph. His expression falters when their eyes meet, and Ralph doesn't realize he's stepping forward until Simon's arm presses across his chest, pulling him back against him.

'Jack. Jack! Was it... Was it you? Was this shit all you this whole fucking time?' Jack twists to look at him, and from his expression, Ralph knew it was. His knees buckle, and Simon holds him up. 'Asshole! You fucking asshole! You - you -  ' The four disappears into the stairwell, and Ralph loses his voice. 'You were right. Charlie was right.' He whispers, and Simon pushes his cheek into his hair, whispering softly as he pulls him back into the room, away from the prying eyes of the other boys.

'It's okay. It's okay. I've got you, it's fine. It's all going to be alright.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas, have me actually updating this fic more than once every seven months


	7. maybe we started this. maybe i just really like the pain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EPILOGUE.

Three years into the five of Jack's sentencing, and Ralph has finally found some normalcy in his life. After graduation, he started working at his father's company. He quickly got his own apartment, high up with a good view of North London. Content with a cat and a solid string of Tinder dates, he has long pushed his years at Savanna Private School and everyone he met there. He even lost contact with Simon.

They tried to make it work. Make them work. Jack's trial was long and exhausting, and Simon would come find him after each day, tell him what happened as they try to forget, try to make something new together, arching under each other's hands and mouths. And then Jack was simply charged with arson, and Simon got angrier, convinced that Peter and Charlie never got the justice they deserved. And Ralph got more distant. Started to compare him with Jack. And then he just. Stopped. Stopped caring about Simon, stopped answering his messages and calls. And then the calls stopped.

He wasn't worried about him, though. He knew he was happy. The last time he was on Facebook, he saw that he and Maurice had gotten together, and seemed pretty serious. Like, we-have-a-dog-named-Peter-and-apartment-together serious.

Simon was happy in his little life, and Ralph was happy in his.

 

Until he gets a call from Jack's prison.

He had been moved out to Wales a few months ago, and Ralph doesn't even think about Googling the number before he answers. And when the words of the pleasant automated voice process, he doesn’t even think before accepting the charges, because he can't breathe, and even though he hasn't seen him since the trial, all he can think about Jack's smile and how warm he is and the way his eyes crinkle when he says I love you.

'Ralph?' His heart stops when his voice reaches him, and he bends over his desk, gripping the edge.

'Hi,' He squeaks out, and he can _feel_ Jack's relief.

'Thank God. Fuck. I miss you so much,' Ralph lowers his forehead onto the pile of paperwork in front of him, and he takes a shaky breath. 'I think about you every day, baby. Every day. It's all I do in here - think about you and go mad, because I don't know what you're doing. Who you're seeing. A-are you still with Simon?'

'I haven't spoken to Simon in two years.'

'Oh. Are you with anyone else?'

'No one serious. Have you?'

'No one. Not even casual fucks. All I want is you.' Ralph immediately feels a stab of guilt at the thought of Jack sitting in jail, alone with his thoughts while he was free to go out and have a decent life without him.

'I've started to forget what you look like. It's been so long, baby. I have a picture, but - but I’ve forgotten the little things. The important things. Like what colour your eyes are - it's hard to tell in the picture I have - or where the moles that I love so much are. What your laugh sounds like,' Jack’s voice goes hoarse and soft, 'What your moans sound like.' Ralph flushes and rubs at the back of his neck.

'Jack,'

'Can you come see me? That’s all I want. To see you, know you’re okay. Are you happy?'

'I guess.' Now that he's made aware of the hole that Jack left, he isn't so sure about the contentedness of his life, 'You're three hours away, Jack.'

'I'll have my father send a car.'

'I just can't go to Wales. I need to get someone to feed my cat, to - to take some days off. I have a life, Jack.'

'I'll call your father. Take care of it for you. You wouldn’t even have to drive.'

'Jack,'

'Please. For me.' Jack whispers, and Ralph stops, stares down at the paper.

'For you.' He whispers back, then swallows thickly. 'But let me take care of it. Let me drive down.'

'You're on my visitor list. The top. You have been since the beginning.' Another thing to be guilty about - three years and he hadn't visited once. Not even when he was closer.

'Oh. Okay.'

'Will you come soon?'

'If - if it makes you happy.'

'It does.'

'I love you,' Ralph's voice cracks, and Jack hums, the sound so warm it seems like they're in the same room, and Ralph's head is on chest.

'I love you, too. See you soon, baby.' The line goes dead, and Ralph buries his face in his hands, cursing softly.

 

A week later, Ralph finds himself regretting a lot of the choices made. Exhausted from the drive, he sits at an empty table, fiddling with his fingers. The room is full of others like him. 

Fifteen minutes later, there's a buzzer, and inmates shuffle in. Jack is near the back of the line, and his grin splits his face when their eyes meet. He pushes past a few other inmates, stopping at the table.

'Hi.' He murmurs, reaching for him. His fingers smooth over his shoulder, and Ralph can't think, can't breathe. 'I wasn't sure you would come. Fuck.' His other hand comes up to his cheek, and Ralph leans in, pushing his face into his chest.

'Fuck.' He whispers back, and Jack moves back gently, sits across from him. He takes his hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. He smiles softly, resting his cheek on his free hand.

'I missed you.' He murmurs and squeezes his hand, and Ralph gives him a small smile.

'Me, too.' He murmurs, and Jack leans in, hand travelling up his arm.

'I wanna fuck you so hard right now. Fuck. You're so pretty.' Ralph flushes, and Jack bites his lip. 'We're allowed to get pictures. Send me some?' Ralph draws back and looks down at his hands, pulling them back across the table.

'Jack, I... I wanna talk about what happened. What you did.' Jack's face closes off.

'That's in the past. It happened three years ago.'

'I wanna talk about it now. I haven't - '

'Then you should've been there!' Jack snaps, and the room quiets for a moment. He looks over his shoulder, then frowns. 'You don't get to show up after three years of nothing and want to talk about it all. You don't have that right.'

'And you don’t get to expect that it's all gonna be the same! You killed a dozen thirteen year-olds! You could’ve killed more.' Jack leans back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. 'You killed Charlie.'

'I didn’t! Or did you not see the security footage.' Ralph looks away and purses his lips.

'Roger did it for you.' He says quietly, and Jack laughs, shakes his head.

'I wanted you to come so we could work things out. Not so we can argue.'

'This is working things out! I don't want - I don't want us to just move on from problems anymore. I want something more than just sex.'

'This is. It's more than sex.'

'Barely.'

'Ralph, please,'

'Then talk to me about it! Why? Why would you even think about starting that fucking fire? Or - or manipulating Roger into killing Charlie? I just want a reason.' Jack is silent for a long time, and Ralph swallows, hard. 'Give me a reason to try, Jack. I love you, I really do. I love you so much. But I can't - '

'I'm not even sure anymore.' He says softly, and Ralph blinks away tears. 'But I can give you a reason. To try. I can give you so many. Just - look at me, baby. Please.' Ralph stares at a scuff on the metal table. 'Please. For me. It's the least you could do.' Ralph's eyes finally meet his, his ears burning. But Jack smiles, turns his hand up on the table. Ralph takes it slowly.

'You're so beautiful,' Jack murmurs, eyes darting over his face, 'I don't deserve you, truly. You're beautiful, and kind, and caring, and you're so fucking amazing. I could be fucking Ghandi and I still wouldn’t deserve you.' His words seem so out of place here - surrounded by strangers, under harsh lights. This is something Jack would say when they're burrowed away in a room, the lights warm and low. He would say things like this when Ralph can't see his face, his own pushed into the crook of his neck. When he was making him squirm, making him moan under him. But Ralph is fully coherent, and that was something they wouldn't be able to do for a long time. And although he's already aching with longing, he hates himself for giving into it all so easily. Jack moves closer. 'And you had every right to stay in London, and stay far away from me, because what I did was horrible. It was horrible, and disgusting, and you shouldn't even look at me without feeling disgust. But you came. You came. And - and that means this can be salvaged. We were good, baby. We were so fucking good. Remember? We were all that mattered.'

'We were all that mattered,' Ralph finds himself whispering, and Jack smiles, leaning in even closer.

'Yeah, baby, that’s it,' Under the table, the toe of his boot traces up his calf, and he shudders, 'We can be like that again. I know we can. You know we can. We can be incredible, if you just let us.' His hand comes up, cups his cheek.

'Okay,' He whispers, and Jack grins, 'I will.' He shuts his eyes tightly, gathering his willpower, 'But we need to make an effort to talk about things. I want to talk about things.

'We don't need to,' Jack murmurs, eyes hooded. 

'Jack, you're not listening to me! Baby, I'll forgive you for it. I'm willing to forgive you for it - I won’t hold it against you. I promise. But I just. Want. To talk about it.' Jack opens his eyes again, but doesn’t pull back. He searches his face, then frowns.

'If that's what you want, I want it too. But not here.' Ralph nods, drawing in on himself and looking away. 'I love you,' It's said more as a nudge, and Ralph knows that Jack expects him to say it back. He gives him a shaky smile and nods, leaning closer to push their foreheads together. The guard standing a few paces away from them, who had been ignoring their contact before now, clears her throat and shifts away, and Jack draws back, biting his lip.

'There's something I wanna talk about, too.' He murmurs, and Ralph nods, eyes flicking from his hands to his eyes. 'Remember that night before the hospital?' Ralph nods slowly - when it had happened, it was sweet, something he thought he would look back on with nostalgic fondness. But, as the common theme of his years at Savanna, the memory has soured over time. 'Do you still mean what you said? What you promised?' Ralph's stomach squeezes in on itself, and he focuses on the scuff again.

'Do you?' He whispers, and Jack sighs.

'That's not what I asked.'

'It's what I asked.' Jack sighs again, and moves closer again.

'Yes, okay?. I still mean it. Isn't that obvious? What more do I need to do to prove that I fucking _love you_ , Ralph. That you've got me. I'm yours. Let me have you. Be mine.' Ralph's ears are burning, and he shifts under the intensity of his gaze.

'You do have me. You always have. I'm yours.' He whispers, because he wanted that gaze to soften, or to turn away completely. Jack hums and nods, biting his lip.

'Fuck, I can't wait until I get out of this hellhole so I can _really_ touch you.' His finger runs over the bone of Ralph's wrist. 'I love you so fucking much, baby.' Ralph nods, looking down and chewing at his pinky.

'I do, too. I - I love you, too.' He whispers, and Jack hums, nudging his leg with his foot.

'Look at me baby. I love you more than you can ever understand. Okay? I do. And I hate being in here, not knowing what you're doing. Who you're seeing. It makes me feel so fucking helpless. You make me so fucking helpless. And out of control. And it drives me crazy. You're driving me fucking insane, just sitting there, so fucking close, and I can't have you, make you mine again. Really mine. Because I _know_ I've lost you.'

'You haven't.' Ralph whispers, eyes still trained on the table. He wants to do what Jack asks, wants to look up at him. But he can barely bear to hear the pain and disappointment in his voice, let alone see it in his face. Jack hums and moves closer, brushing his hair from his eyes. And that little gesture makes it all feel okay - Ralph smiles down at the table.

'It's okay, baby. I have. And I don't mind - because I'm gonna get you back. I will.'

'Okay.'

 

Ralph waits anxiously outside the prison, fidgeting in the summer heat. He rubs at the back of his neck, trying to see into the barred windows, biting his nails.

There's the buzz of a door unlocking, and then Jack walks out with a cardboard box full of his belongings in his arms, an officer trailing behind him. Ralph grins nervously, pocketing his car keys. He wants to run to him, wants to throw his arms around his neck and eliminate the remaining rift between them that they couldn't quite heal with a three foot table between them. But Jack seems closed off, keeping his package between them. But he smiles at him when he reaches him, easy and languid.

'I forgot what you looked like when you're not in orange. It really isn't a good color for you,' Ralph murmurs, breathless at the proximity.

'You saying I should dye my hair?' Jack leans in close, pushing his nose into his hair and breathing in slowly. Ralph smiles at his chest and moves closer.

'No. Your hair isn't _orange_.' Jack opens the door and throws his package into the car, pulling back to look at Ralph.

'Hi.' He says, and Ralph's face is burning. He lifts his arm, a slight invitation. Immediately, Ralph crushes against him, wrapping his arms around him with the intent of never letting go. Jack's hand presses against the back of his head. 'Hey. Hi. Fuck. This is so good - I forgot how good your hugs are.' Ralph laughs, blinking back tears as he grabs at the back of his shirt.

'Missed you,' He murmurs, and Jack hums, swaying slightly.

'I know, baby. I missed you too.' His fingers sweep over the curve of his ear, then he draws back slightly, other hand sliding easily into his pocket and drawing out the keys. 'We should go, love.' He quickly kisses his forehead, then reaches behind him to pull his arms free. Ralph swallows thickly and follows him closely as he easily drops into the driver's seat.

'Shouldn't I drive?'

'Why? I drove the prison van a couple time when picking up deliveries. It's fine.' Ralph flushes and drops into the passenger seat, and Jack fiddles with the radio for a moment before pulling out of the parking spot and giving the guard who still lingers the middle finger.

  
Out on the road, he glances over at Ralph, frowning.

'I know you want to talk,' He says softly, 'And I know that you're so anal about these things that you'll probably withhold sex or some bullshit like that. So. Talk.' Ralph's chest burns when he notices his word choice - whenever he was closed off to something, he never said Let's talk. He said Talk. He knew his mind was already made up - he wouldn't give him answers, wouldn't budge when Ralph reasoned that he should feel bad, instead of just feigning guilt so he could get off six months early. But he moves closer, hoping his proximity might soften him.

'Um. I just want to know why you did it. How you could do it. Those people... We knew them. They were our friends.'

' _Your_ friends. I only had Roger, and he was fucking obsessed with me.'

'That was something else I wanna - '

'No, I don't know where he is. He just up and left one day. Probably killed himself, the fucking pussy.' He hisses, eyes trained on the road. Ralph's hand lands on his arm, but he flinches, so he draws back into himself.

'Still, I don't... I don't know how you could've put everyone in danger, just because Sheridan is a cunt. How you could put _me_ in danger like that.' Ralph is glad the road is empty, because Jack slams on the breaks so hard they squeal, and he twists to look in his seat.

'I didn't. I didn't put you in danger, because you weren't supposed to be in there when it happens. So it's not my fucking fault that - that you inhaled a little smoke. Okay? Never suggest that I would ever hurt you, ever. Because I wouldn't.' As he starts the car again, Ralph remembers his trial. Throughout the whole thing, he was polite, cordial. Just enough confidence to be endearing, but humble as well. All the things that he had fallen in love with, he had amplified by a hundred times in front of the jury. But when Simon's father brought him up, he had lost his cool, and it was clear that Ralph was his only weakness. At first, he had felt pride at that, at how much Jack loves him, but now he just feels guilty.

'Okay,' He says slowly, carefully, 'You didn't. But I just - '

'Drop it, Ralph. Go on to your next fucking talking point.' Ralph hated when he used his name in that tone. He pauses, looking out the window, and he can feel Jack soften beside him. 'Look. It's hard to talk about, baby. Okay? I... I wasn't thinking. Sheridan was cruel, was a fucking cunt, and... And I wanted her to suffer. I didn't think about everyone else. Only me and you - I thought you would be out, and the worst that would happen to you that night was you'd come back to find the school in flames. That's it. I never meant to... For it to spread that far, to cause all that other shit. I just wanted Sheridan out of our life. I love you so fucking much, baby, if you got hurt that night... I wouldn't be able to live with myself.' He sounds sincere, and Ralph slowly turns back to him.

'Okay. Okay, that's um. That's all I wanna... Clear up.' He whispers hoarsely, leaning in to press his face into his neck. Before this past year and a half, he never realized how comforting that action was, hiding in the warmth and smell of Jack, pretending that the world really just revolved around the two of them. Jack's hand comes up and his fingers smooth through his hair. 'I love you, too. By the way.'

  
Over the next hour, Ralph shifts as close as he can get, cheek on Jack's shoulder, arms around his bicep. If it limits Jack's movement, he doesn't say anything, focused on the road. The only sound is some pop song filling the car, and Jack's faint humming along as he taps his index finger on the wheel. His other hand drops down to Ralph's waist, tracing back up and bunching his shirt under his arm before letting it drop back down. Ralph shivers and turns into him, pressing a kiss to his earlobe.

'I didn't know you like this crap,' He whispers under the sugary beat of the music, and Jack snorts.

'I don't.' Ralph hums and presses a kiss to the spot under his ear, seeking for his reaction. There is none, so he moves down along the stretch of soft skin under Jack's jaw, moving slowly, carefully, tuned towards the smallest twitch or moan. He doesn't notice that Jack pulls over again, Adam's apple bobbing under his lips, until he's pushed back into his own seat, knocked against the door, Jack's hands on his waist, mouth on his own.

'Fuck, you're infuriating.' Jack bites at his lips and Ralph moans, high and keening, desperate for more of it all. His hips push up against Jack's when he climbs over the console, and Jack presses his palm against him, and moves back, looking over him, 'God, I wanna fuck you so bad, baby. Wanna find a motel? Or, fuck, even better, just - ' He tugs at his belt, and Ralph whimpers, hips lifting.

'We can't,' He protests weakly, and Jack hums and kisses his nose, 'I've planned it.'

'Screw plans.' Ralph whispers his name, then finally pulls back, gently pushing him away. Jack pauses and looks at him, smiling fondly, taking his face in his hand and kissing him possessively. 'Alright. Okay. I'll wait. Whats three more hours, hm?' Ralph murmurs a thank-you and an apology, touching his temple briefly before Jack pulls back.

 

They're almost home when Jack turns the radio off, looking at Ralph.

'I want you to quit your job.'

'What? Ja - '

'I want to start fresh with you. New jobs, new place. New city, even.'

'Jack, my whole life is - '

'In London, I know.' Over the last year and a half, Jack tried to convince him to move out to Wales. It would be easier to get to him, he had reasoned. That was Ralph's main point of argument - only point of argument, really. 'But aren't you tired of having this _baggage_ between us?'

'I guess. But - '

'It's gonna be so much work, picking up the pieces and starting from where we left off. Wouldn't it be so easier to just - start new? Besides, our fathers got us our jobs. Don't you want some independence from them, too?'

'Yeah, but just - '

'Please, baby. For me. It's the only thing I'm asking for you to change. Just. A new apartment. A new job. We don't even have to leave London, if you don't want to. I mean, I do, but I want to make you happy more than I want to leave that stinking pisshole.' Ralph hesitates, then looks up at Jack, nodding hesitate.

'Okay. But can you just give me time? To pack everything up? Let my father know?'

'Of course.' Jack takes his eyes off the road for a moment to pull him into a brief kiss. 'Thank you, baby.'

 

In the other room, the shower runs as Ralph goes through the box of Jack's belongings. Or, is supposed to be going through it. He lies on his back on his bed, his cat on his stomach, Jack's lighter in his hand, in front of his face. He flips the lid open a couple of times, then runs his fingers over the design on the front, before flicking the wheel a couple of times. A flame sparks, then he lets it go out, repeating the motion a few times. His heart feels heavy from the day, his chest thick and his body sore. Already, he feels like he's walking on eggshells again. He runs his index finger over the small flame a few times, just close enough for the heat to be uncomfortable.

The shower stops, and Ralph startles, closing the lighter quickly and pulling his cat close to push his face against her head, closing his eyes. The door opens, and Jack hums, running his hand through his hair.

'Get some rest, baby. You deserved it.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mer new year   
> i rlly liked this fic and i hope the ending was unsatisfying enough bc i feel sad that its over its probably my fave fic i've ever written
> 
> [check out my tumblr im desperate for followers and attention](gayjackmerridew.tumblr.com)


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